


Black Dove

by Blue_Five



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, M/M, Nesting, Nesting Castiel, Rape/Non-con Elements, Wing Grooming, Wing Oil, Winged Castiel, Winged Dean Winchester, Winged Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-03-13 14:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3384704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Five/pseuds/Blue_Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When love rejects you - how do you survive?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Notes for this 'verse -- everyone has wings and have one of three designations: hawks (alphas), sparrows (betas), doves (omegas). Hopefully I write clearly enough that everything else is easily understood. If not, feel free to ask.

**DEAN – AGE 4**

“Your wings are very important, son,” John Winchester says as he puts bath covers over Dean’s tiny wings. “You have to always take care of them and keep them dry when you can.”

“M’ I gonna be a hawk like you, daddy?” Dean asks from where he splashes in the tub, his wings fluttering behind him.

John smiles at his four-year-old. “Maybe … maybe you’ll be a sparrow like Mommy.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “Sparrows are _girls_ , Daddy!”

“They are _not_ just girls, Dean,” Mary Winchester says, kneeling by the tub and dabbing suds on her chick’s nose. “Sparrows can be boys.”

“Sammy’s a dove,” Dean declares confidently about his little brother asleep in the other room.

“Oh?” John asks. “And how do you know that?”

Dean shrugs. “He’s gonna be a girl. I know.”

Giggles fill the bathroom when his father dumps a small plastic bucket full of water over Dean’s head.

* * *

**DEAN – AGE 7**

“Come _on_ , Sammy!” Dean yells as they race to the swings in the park.

Dean’s wings are small but strong and he can already stay aloft for a long time. Between running and leaping into the air, Dean knows he can reach the swings in a few more bounds.

“Deannie!” Sam whimpers, unable to flap his wings hard enough to keep up with his brother.

Tears begin to leak down the small Winchester’s face as he stops, breathing hard and dragging his feet. Dean sighs, coming to a halt and fluttering to the ground. He groans when he sees three boys reach the swings first but turns around with a smile. He takes Sam’s hand and walks with him to the jungle gym instead. He lifts Sam to a bar eye-level with Dean and holds him there for a moment while his baby brother catches his breath.

“You almost did it, Sammy,” Dean praises the little boy.

Dean loves Sam more than anything. He wanted to play on the swings but he doesn’t want Sam to feel bad. He tickles the round tummy and smiles when Sam kicks his legs and giggles. The smile fades when he sees Dean’s attention is on the swing set and the three boys now enjoying them. Sam looks sadly at Dean.

“I sorry,” he says softly.

Dean blows a raspberry. “Don’t be dumb. You can practice your jumps now.”

Sam’s eyes grow large. “No, Dean! Scared!”

“I’m right here, Sammy. I won’t let you fall. You just gotta trust me,” Dean says.

Sam grips the bar he sits on and shakes his head. “No no no!”

Dean chirps, irritated. “Sammy, you don’t gotta be afraid. I’ll catch you.”

Sam presses his mouth shut and shakes his head again. Dean groans. “You’re such a dove, Sammy.”

Sammy’s eyes well up the minute the words leave Dean’s mouth. He winces and tries to comfort Sam but the little boy shoves him away and flutters to the ground before running away. Dean gapes because Sam is oblivious to the fact that he just jumped off the jungle gym and used his wings to land. He chases after Sam and finally catches him.

“Sammy … Sammy … I’m _sorry_ … I didn’t mean it!” Dean apologizes.

“Uh HUH! Deanie _mean_ … m’not a dove,” Sam says, struggling with the words.

“Sammy, please don’t tell … I didn’t mean it. I promise!” Dean begs.

Sam regards the fear in his brother’s eyes but his mind is on something more pressing. “Is dove _bad_ , Dean?”

Dean stops. He teases Sam like that because his friends tease like that … he knows if he mother or father heard him, he’d catch the belt for sure. He chews on his lower lip and shakes his head.

“No, they’re not bad,” Dean explains.

“Why call me ‘den?” Sam asks, pouting.

“I don’t know, Sammy … ‘cause that’s just what some of the guys say,” Dean replies with a helpless shrug.

“Stupid,” Sammy declares.

Dean agrees.

* * *

**CASTIEL – AGE 14**

Castiel Novak makes soft, distressed chirping noises as he slowly extends his newly feathered wings. Everything hurts and he’s so tired he can barely think of anything else. He whimpers when his father gently combs through the feathers that have grown to replace the ones lost during his first moult.

“Perfect, Castiel … they look just perfect,” Charles Novak praises. “They look just like your mother’s.”

Castiel tries to give a little smile to his father but inside he’s dying. A dove. He’s manifested as a dove. Doves are little more than nest-warmers. He’ll be expected to find a suitable mate and begin his egg-laying cycle but he wants to do so much more with his life. He wants to _be_ so much more. His brothers … Balthazar is a hawk and so is Gabriel. Castiel sniffles but the tears come anyway. Charles Novak _tsks_ softly and cards his fingers into Castiel’s hair.

“Now, now, my precious chick … no tears,” he says gently. “There’s no shame in being a dove. None whatsoever. Look at these magnificent feathers! You’ll be the belle of the ball –“

Castiel jerks away and curls into a ball, his ebony wings shimmering around him as they tremble with his anguish.

“I don’t _want_ to be the belle! I want to be a _hawk_ like you and Gabe and Balthy! I don’t _want_ this!” Castiel yells.

Hiccuping sobs fill the room and Charles hears the door open behind him. Castiel scrambles up to push himself into the corner of his bed, knees pulled up to his chest and wings wrapped tightly around him.

“Get it over with, Gabe! Make all your stupid jokes … tell me how pathetic I am,” Castiel shouts.

“Oh now that just _hurts_ , Cassy,” Gabriel says, walking into the room.

Gabriel is Castiel’s closest brother and older by three years – a hawk through and through. He’s a senior and he never fails to play his asinine pranks and jokes on Castiel because Castiel always falls for them. He torments his little brother with glee most days but since their mother died, he also defends Castiel with a fierceness that belies his easy-going nature.

Gabriel hops up on the bed and fingers one of Castiel’s new primaries. “Wow, look at that shine … Dad’s not wrong, Cassy. You’re gonna really wow them.”

Castiel shakes his head. “You don’t think it’s cool … you think I’m lame. You think having a dove brother is _lame!_ ”

Balthazar ` r enters the room slowly. Balthazar is the oldest and seven years older than Castiel. He gives his young brother his own special brand of grief but, like Gabriel, reserves the right to pound anyone bothering his siblings. His earlier years were somewhat … challenging … so he was sent away to boarding school in the UK with a cousin. He was much calmer and had a crisp British accent when he returned but Castiel has watched him date scores of willing sparrows and doves of both genders so he holds little hope that the man will respect him.

“Lame?” Charles asks his sons darkly.

Gabriel rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and Balthazar looks like he’d rather be anywhere but in Castiel’s room.

“It was a _joke_ , Dad …”

“A misunderstanding …”

Castiel makes an ‘I told you so’ sound and his wings tighten over him. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes miserably. He pulls back from Gabriel’s touch but his brother won’t relent and begins to tickle Castiel’s toes.

“Stop it …” Castiel mutters as he tries to cover his feet with his wings.

Balthazar joins Gabriel in trying to reach his little brother’s toes while Chuck moves aside, watching carefully. He knows the boys love one another even if it’s akin to pulling teeth to make them admit it.

“Stop!” Castiel snaps, his wings flaring and his eyes gleaming white hot in anger.

Balthazar blows out a low whistle. Moults change wings and alter body chemistry which cause visible changes to the body that help mark an individual’s designation. Castiel’s forever messy and flat black hair is now shiny and full of body. His eyes are fierce blue. He sniffs and wipes at his nose. His body is still slender but it has filled out and he has some muscle definition. He blinks at the way his brothers are staring at him.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Am I that ugly?”

“Cassy, love,” Balthazar says gently. “You’re fucking _brilliant_.”

Gabriel chuckles. “He ain’t wrong, little bro. You are gonna stop traffic, that’s for _damn_ sure.”

“But I don’t _want_ to … I want to be like you two … and you still said it was lame!” Castiel accuses.

“Yeah, but I’m a jerk and we all know this,” Gabriel concedes easily. “Cassy, who cares if you coo instead of screech? Doesn’t change _you_.”

“Yes it _does_ ,” Castiel insists. “I wanted to be a doctor … I wanted to –“

“Whatever’s stopping you, little brother?” Balthazar asks.

Castiel looks at his father who smiles. “Castiel, your life is your own regardless of how you manifested. You will eventually be driven to find a mate and bear chicks – it’s your biological nature now. But that doesn’t mean you won’t find someone who will let you do what you want with your life.”

“I won’t,” Castiel sniffs.

“Yes, you _will_ ,” Balthazar says, sitting down on the bed. “Little brother, you are going to do whatever the fuck you want with your life and do you know why?”

Castiel shakes his head. Balthazar tips his chin up.

“Because Gabe and I will cheerfully maul anyone who even _thinks_ of trying to stop you.”

Castiel ducks his head and wipes his eyes. “Promise?”

Gabe makes a wide show of crossing his chest. “Cross our hearts and hope to die.”

“Of course, you doubted us, Castiel,” Balthazar says warningly.

Gabriel nods thoughtfully. “Yes, that _is_ true …”

Castiel’s eyes dart back and forth between his brothers as they descend on him. Charles closes the bedroom door to the hysterical squeals of Castiel being tickled mercilessly by his brothers.

* * *

** DEAN – AGE 14  **

“I knew it,” John Winchester says proudly as Dean comes slowly downstairs for the first time in a week.

The young hawk smiles tiredly at his dad and lets his mother press a kiss to his dark blond hair. His hazel eyes shine with new light and his wings … his wings, Dean thinks, are _da_ _bomb_.

Sammy watches Dean uncertainly as his brother eases down onto the couch and then curls up on his side. He pulls his wings around him with a groan.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?” comes the muffled reply.

“Are you going to be ok? You lost a _lotta_ feathers,” Sam observes.

Dean snorts and wiggles his wings a little. “Whaddya think these are, Sammy? Brand-new and shiny.”

“Does it hurt?”

Dean peeks out between his wings. Sam stares at his game controller and Dean realizes his little brother is thinking about _his_ moult. It's a few years out, but now he's worried.

“Yeah, but you sleep a lot so it's not so bad. I'm just sore is all, Sammy.”

“Promise?” Sam asks in a small voice.

“Sammy,” Dean groans. “I feel like shit and when I get my strength back I'm going to tickle you until you puke if you don't shut up.”

Sam grins, comforted by Dean's threats that have no real heat behind them. He goes back to his game and Dean sleeps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the terrific response to this -- I'm glad folks want to see the rest of this story.

Dean struts down the hall of his school.  The reactions to his first moult are making it the best day of his life.  His wings are folded back, like always, but they are hard to miss regardless.

Before a moult, everyone’s wings are similar – small and neutral colored.  After a moult, they are much larger and the new feathers carry coloring and patterns unique to every individual.  Dean’s are a rich honey-gold that shimmers in the sun.  The fluorescent lighting of the building flattens the colors a little, but it’s still pretty spectacular.  Already he can see the girls looking at him differently – especially Lisa Braeden.  Dean stops at his locker where he’s almost immediately accosted by his friends, Stevie, Reggie and Tim.

“Winchester!  Awesome plumage, dude!”

The ribbing continues as Dean gets his books and they walk down the hallway, laughing and wrestling with one another.  Dean’s increased muscle mass gives him an advantage for now.  Intent on their play, none of the group really notices the dove rounding the corner until they all but crash into him, wings flapping as they all try to prevent a collision.

Dean locks eyes with the other boy – Castiel, his brain supplies – and he’s struck by how overwhelmingly _blue_ his eyes are in contrast to the pale skin and thick dark hair.  Midnight black wings brush against Dean’s.  It’s only the tips and only for a second, but it’s enough to send a shock through Dean.  He jerks, bumping into Reggie a little harder than he means to but his friend doesn’t notice.  None of them notice; they’re all too busy staring.

“ _Nice_ , Novak,” Tim says appreciatively.

Castiel blushes and Dean thinks the dove is the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen.  It’s weird to think that since he’s been crushing on Lisa Braeden most of the past two years.  Dean nods when his buddies look at him and says softly.

“Yeah …um, yeah, Cas … you look … um, good,” Dean stammers. 

Instantly, his friends are on him, teasing and giving him shit for his bumbling compliment.  The moment passes and they continue down the corridor to their first class, leaving Castiel watching them walk away. 

Dean Winchester.  Castiel knows the boy’s name even if the hawk doesn’t remember _him_.  He’s always considered the other teen good-looking but they travel in distinctly different social circles so the odds of ever encountering one another have been slim until now.  Castiel runs to the restroom to hide and think.  His entire body is trembling and he can’t seem to catch his breath.

_Imprinting._   Castiel’s heard about it, of course, but it always seemed so far-fetched.  Finding the one person out of everyone on the planet that would become the center of your universe seemed like something out of the fairy tale fan fiction stories his lab partner Becky was always reading.  He closes his eyes and instantly all he can see is the glittering wings and hazel eyes that seem to look right through him.  Castiel chirps softly as warmth steals into his chest and fills him until he can’t imagine that he’s not glowing with happiness.  Dean Winchester.

* * *

Dean finds his thoughts stealing back to Castiel Novak during his first class.  He traces the black wings in his mind wondering if they’re as black on the interior.  Dean swallows and blushes, staring at his textbook without really seeing it.  He doesn’t know why the way Castiel’s blue eyes seemed to get hazy and dark when they looked at him makes him feel hot and cold all at the same time.  He runs a hand over his face.  He wonders briefly if this is what imprinting feels like and then shakes off the thought. 

Imprinting, from what his dad’s told him, is like having a total eclipse of the sun and your only light is the person you’ve imprinted upon.  John Winchester imprinted on Dean’s mother when they were just out of high school.  Sam thinks it would be cool to have that happen but Dean’s not so sure.  Being tied down to one person like that doesn’t sound like any fun _at all_ and from what his dad said, it’s forever.  John saw Mary and that was it – he never even _looked_ at anyone else after that.  She was his everything. 

While he sort of understands the draw, Dean doesn’t feel like Castiel is the end-all of his existence.  The boy has always been quiet, surrounded by his own friends and more inclined to intellectual pursuits than Dean.  The hawk doodles a feather on his notebook with one ear on the lesson.  He has lunch with Lisa and her giggling friends – the day passes in a blur of compliments, shy blushing looks from others and the occasional glimpse of a pair of ebony wings. 

When he stops at his locker to get his books before heading home, Dean feels a shiver race up his spine and he looks around to find Castiel standing a few feet from him, clutching his books to his chest.  He gives a quick grin, closes his locker and spins the combo dial to lock it.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says.

“Hi, Dean,” Castiel replies softly.  “I was – um, wondering –“

Dean’s friends surround the dove and manage to totally startle and fluster him.  Castiel stumbles backwards and falls, his books going every which way.  Dean lets out a sharp screech, making his friends back off.  He kneels beside Castiel and helps the boy to his feet.

“You ok, Cas?” Dean asks softly.  “Ignore them.”

Castiel nods, stuck mute.  Dean chuckles and picks up the books to hand back to the dove.  He looks at one of them.

“Whoa … conceptual physics?  Knew you were a brain, Cas … didn’t know you were like, Stephen Hawking or something,” Dean teases gently.

Castiel chirps nervously.  “I’m no-not really _that_ smart, Dean.”

Dean smiles and without thinking about it, gently brushes his wing against Castiel’s.  “Yeah, I bet you are, handsome.”

“Oooh, _handsome_!” Reggie taunts.

Dean shoves his friend a little harder than their usual playfulness.  He’s about to turn back to Castiel when a shrill chirp breaks the moment.  He looks up to see Lisa waving at him.  He returns the gesture and looks over at Castiel. 

“See ya later, Cas.”

Before Castiel can gather his wits enough to talk, Dean is off with his arm around Lisa’s shoulders.  He misses the dark look the girl shoots Castiel.  The dove goes home, already half in love with Dean Winchester.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while -- I hope you like this brief little interlude.

_**THREE YEARS LATER** _

Dean quickly dials his locker combo.  He’s late and can’t afford yet _another_ detention.  Dean knows if he gets grounded Lisa will kill him.  Her Sweet Sixteen is tomorrow night and it’s all she’s been talking about for _months_.  Dean sighs, wondering not for the first time if he should just break it off with the demanding sparrow and be done with it.  Lisa is gorgeous – her wings are a lovely milk chocolate blending toward darker tips.  She’s one of the most popular girls in school and, based on their time in the backseat of Dean’s Impala, very _flexible_.  It’s been fun but for the past three years something else has nagged at Dean’s attention – Castiel.  And, as if to emphasize his confused thoughts, he finds a small bag of his favorite spicy jerky sitting on top of his books. 

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean says with a light squawk.

The dove has been his near-constant shadow for the past few years.  Dean knows he should have nipped it in the bud back when but all Castiel has to do is look at him with those damnable blue eyes of his and Dean can’t say ‘no’.  He knows it pisses Lisa off and she insults Castiel every chance she gets which gets on Dean’s nerves far more than he lets on.

Dean finds the dove’s presence oddly calming so he endures the bitching he catches from Lisa or his friends.  Castiel just has a crush, that’s all … a three-year long crush.  Dean knows once they head off to their respective colleges, all that will change and he’ll just have a fond memory of the dove to look back on later in life.  Dean tries not to wonder why that makes him feel sad.

“Dean?  Are you alright?”

Dean jumps, his wings flaring slightly in alarm.  He looks over to see Castiel standing a few lockers down regarding him worriedly.  Dean sighs and jerks his books out.  He’s never going to be able to talk his way out of this tardy.

“I’m gonna put a fuckin’ bell on you, Cas,” Dean grumbles but there’s no heat in his voice.  “Why’re you all the way over there?”

“I knew it would probably startle you when I spoke and you swing out with your wings when you’re surprised.  I was just trying to avoid being hit,” Castiel explains in his no-nonsense way.

Dean finds Castiel’s mannerisms adorable but his _brain_ … Dean hits Lisa or his friends at least twelve times a day with his wings because none of _them_ have figured out his tendency to flare when startled.  And they’re with him nearly all day every day.  The only other person who can avoid his wings without fail is Sammy.  Dean chuckles and closes his locker. 

“Cas, man, never change,” Dean says. 

Castiel tilts his head slightly to one side like he’s doing now which make his wings open slightly, showing off a glimpse of his luminous underside feathers.  Dean has a few fantasies tucked away about those feathers and what they look like spread out.  He clears his throat and holds up the jerky.  Castiel coos softly and blushes.

“It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

Dean smiles.  He couldn’t stay irritated with the dove if he tried.  And he _does_ try.  “Yeah, it is.  Cas, dude, you _know_ I have girlfriend and she isn’t your biggest fan in case you haven’t noticed by now.”

Castiel shrugs.  “It’s not – I just know you like it.”

Dean slides his arm around the dove’s shoulders.  He pecks affectionately at Castiel’s temple but hard enough that the dove flutters his wings.

“Thanks as always, Cas but you really gotta quit sneaking shit into my locker.  Lisa finds any of this stuff and she’ll rip out your primaries,” Dean warns.

Castiel blushes even harder.  “I’m sorry Dean.”

“Don’t apologize, Cas … hey, did you get an invite to Lisa’s 16th tomorrow?”

Castiel snorts.  “Right, like she’s going to invite me.  You just said how much she hates me, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ inviting you,” Dean says, releasing the dove.  “Maybe then I’ll have someone to talk to I actually _like_.”

Castiel frowns.  “If you don’t like them, Dean, why do you hang out with them?”

Dean shrugs uncomfortably.  “I dunno … I like some of them.  So you coming or not?”

“I’ll be there,” Castiel replies quietly.  “But only if you really want me to come.”

Dean rolls his eyes.  “Wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want you there, fledge-head.”

Castiel’s blush deepens if that’s possible.  Dean’s term of endearment is one he’s never heard him call anyone else.  It started out, Castiel is sure, as an insult considering how wild his hair was before he moulted.  Since then, it still tends to go its own way, but for some reason the look is more alluring than awkward.  He hands Dean a small blue piece of paper.  Dean blinks at it.

“What the – Cas, this is a freakin’ tardy excuse!” Dean says in a harsh whisper.

Castiel nods.  “I work in the office, remember?  I figured you might need it when I didn’t see you at the coffee counter with Lisa this morning.  You can’t have another tardy or you’ll be suspended off the team, right?”

Dean’s eyebrows go up.  “Wow … um, you got my blood-type written down somewhere in case I get in a car accident in the parking lot too?”

Castiel’s face shifts and Dean regrets his sarcasm.  He reaches out and grabs Castiel’s arm because the dove is about to bolt.  Their wings brush lightly against each other only this time, Dean doesn’t pull back.  He stares at the electric blue eyes and, without realizing it, steps into Castiel’s personal space, one leg between the dove’s legs.

“Don’t go, Cas … I didn’t – you do so much for me and I don’t know why,” Dean says softly, his hazel eyes roaming over the boy’s face like he’s never seen him before.

Castiel swallows hard.  He’s never been this close physically to Dean and his body is screaming for him to do something to keep the hawk’s attention.  He looks up through his dark lashes and when Dean pulls a short breath, he unconsciously licks his lips.  Dean suddenly leans close and presses his lips to the dove’s in a hard, brief kiss.  When they part, their wings are moving slowly against each other and it’s like all the romantic movies they’ve ever seen – time stands still.  Dean doesn’t want to release the other boy and from the way Castiel’s smiling sweetly with hooded eyes, the dove doesn’t want to go. 

The moment breaks when the bell shatters the silence and the two scramble apart.  Dean watches as Castiel moves off without another word and disappears in the sudden sea of bodies flooding the hallway.  Dean looks down at his hand still clenching the pass.

“Dean?”

He turns and Lisa is standing beside him, looking gorgeous as always but somehow _less_ than before.  Dean recovers quickly and smiles broadly at her, sliding his arm around her like he always does.  He wishes it didn’t feel so wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel walks as quickly as he can to a close restroom and locks himself in a stall. His attendance record is nearly perfect so he can lie and say he was sick later. Which, actually, might not be so far from the truth -- his wings tremble and he wants to chirp madly. The smile on his face refuses to fade and he hugs himself tightly. Fingers drift over his lips.

_Dean kissed me!_ Castiel thinks happily. _Me!_

It’s been the subject of more fantasies than Castiel will ever admit to – Dean Winchester kissing him. Balthazar and Gabriel tease him incessantly but in quieter moments, they also try to talk him out of what he feels about Dean. It saddens him that they don’t trust him … that they think it’s nothing but a crush. It doesn’t matter to Castiel, not really. He knows he imprinted on Dean that first day after they’d molted. Every moment since then, he’s watched and memorized everything about Dean … and he’s taken heart in the fact that the hawk hasn’t pulled away from his attentions. Dean might think it’s just a crush but Castiel knows they complement each other. He knows Dean is meant to be his mate; he just has to figure out how to make the hawk realize it. Based on their kiss, Dean wants Castiel but the complication lies in the sparrow, Lisa.

Castiel’s nose wrinkles when he thinks about Lisa Braeden. She’s a gorgeous sparrow and very well-liked in her peer group but Castiel is very aware of her dislike of him. She is possessive of Dean … and right now Castiel feels an answering possession in his very bones. Dean is _his,_ the dove decides, wings tremoring. He’s never felt anything like he does when he’s with Dean … the strength coming off the hawk makes Castiel feel like he can do anything. Be anything. He feels like he can conquer the world – for three years Dean’s presence has driven Castiel to excel in every class. He wants to be ready when Dean realizes what they share. Castiel gathers his books and heads for class. He mentally plans what he’s going to wear to the party. Castiel has a smile that won’t fade all day. He doesn’t care what he has to do or how long he has to wait – Dean Winchester will be his mate one day.

* * *

Dean laughs at something his friend Reggie says but he doesn’t really hear him. He’s been at Lisa’s house for nearly three hours helping her set up for the party. The huge arch covered in flowers that leads out into the backyard took forever to put up even with her dad’s help. Now, looking over the yard covered in garlands of flowers with lanterns strewn overhead and all the other frou-frou stuff, he thinks it’s all pretty cool. He’s wearing a green dress shirt and black slacks because Lisa wanted this to be a ‘dressier’ occasion. At least he didn’t have to wear a suit coat and tie.

By ones and twos the people invited to the party show up. Dean mills around, talking to his friends and acknowledging others, trying not to look bored. Lisa has to make some sort of entrance, so she won’t be down for a bit. Dean sighs and wonders if Castiel will come.

The hallway kiss lingers his mind. It’s weird the way being with Castiel feels _right._ The dove has a dry sense of humor that never fails to make Dean smile and he’s tried to blow the kid off. Castiel operates in a totally different social group than Dean does and it’s chickenshit, but Dean doesn’t know if he’s ready to buck what’s expected of him. Still, some days … like yesterday, Dean feels almost ready to try. Castiel’s eye, his wings, everything about the dove intrigues Dean but makes him feel ordinary at the same time. Castiel’s going to do great things with his life. Dean spends too much time wondering what he’s going to wear the next day. How would that work?

“Dean?”

Jerked from his reverie, Dean looks over to see Lisa approaching, resplendent in her dark chocolate dress sprinkled with gold sequins. It sets off her lighter-colored wings perfectly, like Dean knew it would. He smiles and whistles at the sparrow.

“You look great, Lis’,” he says.

Lisa smiles back but her eyes are laser focused on him. Dean isn’t sure if something is wrong until her hand closes on his bicep and long nails press painfully into the muscle. She pulls Dean aside. He follows hurriedly, wincing.

“ _Oww_ , Lisa what the—“

“Dean, why is _Castiel Novak_ at my party?” Lisa’s voice is cold and very pissed off.

Dean’s wonders how his skull doesn’t snap of his neck he looks up so fast. Castiel is standing just past the arch in the midst of a small group of hawks. Dean feels a hot spike of jealousy as the hawks hover around the shy dove. It’s easy to see why – Castiel is wearing a blue dress shirt and slacks much like Dean. The blue makes not only the gorgeous cerulean eyes pop but at this angle, Dean sees the normally hidden highlights in Castiel’s black wings. Dean lets out a low whistle and winces again when Lisa punches him in the arm.

“ _Ouch_ , damn it Lisa, I invited him, ok?” Dean says, rubbing his arm. “You said I could invite my friends too, right? Well, he’s my friend.”

Lisa leans close, her hand gripping tightly again. “Make him leave.”

Dean gapes at her. “Come on, Lisa, I can’t do that.”

“You can and you will, Dean Winchester. It’s just _creepy_ the way he follows you around like a lost fledgling. He _knows_ we’re together,” Lisa hisses.

Dean feels a twisting in his gut at Lisa’s words. His wings ripple in agitation. “He’s not _creepy_ , Lis’ … he’s just got a crush, that’s all. He’s harmless.”

“This is _my_ party, Dean. Either you ask him to leave or I’ll _tell_ him to leave,” Lisa snaps with a squawk that makes Dean’s wings shiver.

Dean sets his jaw tightly. “Fine.”

* * *

Dean walks toward Castiel, his wings flaring and folding nervously. He so doesn’t want to do this to the dove but he doesn’t want to cause a scene at Lisa’s party either. The way Castiel’s expression brightens when Dean walks up to him makes the hawk want to dig a deep hole and bury himself.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says lightly.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel replies with a shy smile.

Dean waves off all the hawks milling around the dove and steps closer to whisper in Castiel’s ear. In retrospect, Dean thinks he should have known the move would send an entirely different signal to Castiel. As he moves into the dove’s space, Castiel turns his head and kisses Dean. The hawk jerks slightly but relaxes into the kiss without thinking about it. It’s _Cas_ and Dean realizes he likes kissing the dove. His hands automatically settle on Castiel’s hips and his wings curl around to stroke along the dove’s feathers, black mingling with gold. Castiel makes a soft trill in the back of his throat and Dean deepens the kiss. A screech behind him jerks them both from the moment.

“Dean, what are you _doing?!?”_ Lisa’s shrill cry silences the buzz of conversation around the yard and in the house. She’s headed straight for them and her expression is anything but tolerant.

Dean spins around at Lisa’s voice, his wings going wide in alarm. Castiel takes a direct hit from Dean and stumbles backward, his own wings flapping as he tries to keep his balance. Unfortunately, the dove’s wings slam into the flowered arch sending it toppling over. Light and lantern strings anchored at the top of the arch are pulled down when it falls, coming down on top of guests and tables creating instant chaos. Wings flare everywhere as alarmed teens panic. Cords tangle and trip people who fall with arms and wings outspread.

When Castiel started to fall, Dean whipped around to try and catch him, but only managed to brush fingertips. His wings hit Lisa, knocking her to the ground. Her feathers are rumpled and her dress now has grass stains on it. She screeches, calling out to Dean, but the hawk has already turned to gather up Castiel and usher him out of the party.

“Dean, I’m _sorry_ …” Castiel says miserably as he’s walked through the house at a quick pace.

“I know, Cas, but you gotta get out of here. I’ve never seen Lisa that mad before,” Dean warns.

Out on the front sidewalk, Castiel pulls free and turns to face Dean. “Why are you with her, Dean? You know you don’t want to be.”

Dean rubs the back of his neck as the onlookers that followed them pause. He blushes and shakes his head. “I don’t – I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Cas. I _told_ you to back off that stuff … it’s pretty serious with me and Lisa.”

Castiel snorts and Dean looks up to see the blue eyes roll. The dove has never been dismissive of him and Dean wants inexplicably to correct whatever he did wrong. His green eyes flash when he feels a warm tug of _something_ between them.

“How can it be serious when you and I are imprinted, Dean?” Castiel demands.

Shocked sounds travel through the teens gathered behind Dean and he feels his face grow even hotter.

“Imprinted? Cas, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean protests. “I didn’t _imprint_ on you.”

The dove’s eyes are darting around, taking in the growing number of people watching the confrontation. He coos softly in distress which hits Dean like a punch to the gut.

“Dean … in the hall … you kissed me … I thought you felt… and when you kissed me just now …”

Dean opens his mouth but then Lisa shoves past him, her hair wild and her fingers hooked into claws.

“I’ll fucking _kill_ you, you stupid dove!”

Dean barely gets his wing in front of her to prevent her from clawing Castiel. He yelps as she punches him in the torso and pushes at his wing trying to reach Castiel. A few of his feathers are yanked painfully out before her girlfriends pull her away.

“I hate you, you fucking creep! I hate you!” Lisa screams at Castiel.

Dean’s protective sense gets the better of him and he lets out a loud, piercing screech at Lisa. “Let it _go_ , Lis’! Just leave him alone!” Dean says angrily.

Lisa sniffles and then wails. Dean runs a hand down his face as her friends bundle her off with glares that could probably burn all his feathers to ash at once. Dean turns back to Castiel who has pulled his wings in tight around himself. He looks utterly miserable.

“Dean …”

“Just go, Cas,” Dean says tiredly.

“But Dean … I –“

Dean shakes his head and growls. “ _No_ , Cas … you _didn’t_ imprint on me. You’ve just had a fucking crush for three years. We were kids, Cas! How the hell do you think we imprinted when we were just kids?”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Dean,” Castiel presses.

“Yeah? Too bad for you because after tonight I don’t wanna see you again,” Dean announces.

The dove’s eyes widen and fill with tears that spill onto pale cheeks. It’s all Dean can do to hold himself in check and not lunge forward to pull the young man against him to hide within the circle of his wings. The coldness seeping into his chest however, won’t let him show weakness.

“Dean, _no_ … I’m sorry! It won’t happen again! I can wait … I won’t bother you –“

Dean lets out a frustrated growl and turns away from Castiel. He feels the dove’s wing tips brush his and the jolt of energy he always feels when he’s with Castiel surges through him. Dean snaps his wings shut. Fists clenched at his side, Dean stands with his back to Castiel.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Cas. Just – go. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want you around anymore. I see you and I’m crossin’ the street or walkin’ the other direction or whatever it takes but this is done. I didn’t imprint on you … I don’t _want_ to imprint on you. I don’t want _you_.”

Castiel’s mournful coo breaks Dean’s heart as it melts into a sob. He starts walking back to the house and behind him he can hear footsteps and the flutter of wings. He turns to see Castiel stumbling down the road and every instinct he has screams at him to go after the dove. Dean swallows his own tears and turns away.

“I’m sorry, Cas.”


	5. Chapter 5

“No … _Cas!_ ”

Dean jerks up from the nightmare with a gasp. He looks around quickly before letting his head fall back on the pillow. While his heart rate returns to normal, Dean thanks whatever deity is watching over him that today is Lisa’s early shift at the hospital. It’s been years since he dreamt about Castiel, but he knows his mate. Dean’s pretty sure Lisa would rip his wings clean off his body if she found out he was thinking about the dove.

Crawling out of bed, Dean showers and dresses before making his way into the kitchen. He frowns when he sees the coffee maker sitting silent and empty. Usually Lisa starts it on her early days so he has a nice full pot waiting for him before he heads out to the shop. Dean sighs and goes to pull the coffee out of the pantry when he sees the sticky note on the can: _Make your own coffee._

“What the hell?” Dean wonders.

Pulling out his phone, Dean shoots off a quick text: _Want to tell me why ur pissed?_

The coffee maker begins to burble and hum before he gets a response: _Ask your dream-boy, Castiel._

Dean groans. _It’s been twelve years, Lis. Get the fuck over it._

What he types, however, is: _Sorry, babe. I can’t help what I dream. It doesn’t mean anything._

* * *

Dean goes to work with a vise around his heart. As always, the dream drags unwanted images from the depths and slings them to land dark and wet on his soul. Primary among these are feathers … black feathers, broken and scattered all around Dean while dead blue eyes stare at him. He curses and grinds the heel of his hand into his eyes, forcing the tears away before he gets out of the Impala. Singer’s Auto Repair & Salvage has been his second home for most of his life. He and Sam played in the junkyard when they were little while his dad worked with the old hawk who owns it, Bobby Singer. Dean sighs as another heavy band tightens around his chest. His dad’s been gone nearly six years now … and they weren’t talking much when he died. It’s just another thing from his past that will never cease to haunt him.

Dean waves at Bobby and puts his stuff in his locker before going to check the tickets for the day. He frowns at one.

“I didn’t see a bike come in yesterday,” he says, looking up at the grizzled man currently filling out an order.

Bobby thinning and gray wings snap to straighten the feathers. He stabs his pencil toward the bay and Dean sees the motorcycle sitting alone. His eyes widen.

“Holy shit! Is that a – that’s a –“

Bobby picks up the order he’s writing. “A Zero Engineering T5 ‘Blackie’.”

Dean nods, mute. Dean walks over to run a reverential hand across the tank and seat. His wings tremor behind him – it’s a beautiful work of art. A modified Harley, the bike has been stripped to its essence and all the chrome is muted or blacked out. It’s sleek and beautiful with the only gloss present on the fuel tank which is black with faint hints of blue depending on the angle of sight.

“What’s _wrong_ with it?” Dean asks softly.

“Nothin’, just a tune-up,” Bobby replies. They gaze at the bike together. “Guy said he rode it up from Vegas and needs it cleaned up. Said he wouldn’t have time for a few weeks otherwise.  He went to get a quick breakfast.”

“New to town?”

“Yeah … new doctor over at the VA,” Bobby replies, looking down at the order. “Dr. C. Novak. Hey, wasn’t there a boy ‘bout your age --?”

Dean freezes and snatches the paper from Bobby’s hand ignoring the sharp curse. He scans the paperwork and tries very hard not to imagine that the scrawl on the form is the same as someone he knew a lifetime ago. He shoves the order back at his boss and stumbles back, muttering excuses.

“I gotta --- sorry, Bobby, I need to –“

Dean manages to reach his locker and grab his jacket. It’s his worst nightmare come true and he’s at least man enough to say he can’t face his past right now. He hears Bobby shouting at him, but a ringing in his ears muffles the sound. His vision is closing in around him and all Dean can think is to get to the Impala and drive. Head down, shoulders hunched, Dean walks toward his car. He pulls up short when he walks straight into a broad torso but just scoots around it, mumbling apologies.

“Sorry, dude, gotta get –“

“Dean?”

Dean freezes, unable to take a breath. Molasses coats his bones as he turns slowly to face the man standing on the sidewalk regarding him curiously. Dean’s wings flare and retract as he looks at a ghost.

The last time Dean saw Castiel Novak, the dove was seventeen and laying in a hospital bed. He’d looked so helpless and scared. The Castiel that stands before him now is twelve years older and looks anything _but_ scared.

Of a height now, Castiel’s blue eyes pierce Dean’s green ones the way they did in years past. He wears worn black jeans that hug his legs a little too well, biker boots, a simple white t-shirt and a sun faded leather jacket that Dean finds himself picturing Castiel wearing while on the bike sitting in Bobby’s garage. His dark hair lies in the sexy tousled way only wind-blown hair that had been slightly tamed with fingers can manage. He wears a light scruff of beard that Dean finds weirdly hot. Where Castiel’s teenage frame had been slender, his adult body is built and broad in all the right places. Dean finds himself torn between continuing to flee and enveloping the dove with his wings.

Somehow, everything melds into a stammered, “Hey … hey, Cas.”

The dove snorts and claps Dean on the shoulder, surprising the hawk with his strength. “Eloquent as ever. Good to know you haven’t changed, Dean.”

Dean stares as Castiel turns away and walks over to Bobby. His breath leaves him again when he sees them – Castiel’s wings. When Dean last saw them, they were covered in protective sleeves to prevent infection while the dove healed and bones knitted. Now he sees what he’d only heard rumors of before.

Castiel’s long radial and ulna are intact on either wing but what clings to them is not the thick layers of beautiful feathers Dean remembers from that first day following their molt. Instead, it’s a scattering of secondaries, the rest having been ripped away. The dove’s ‘hands’ are somewhat better … Dean sees a more solid layer of primaries gleaming in the sun. The bare and shredded look the wings have makes Dean’s eyes water. He must make a noise of some sort because Castiel pauses and looks over his shoulders. He smiles ruefully.

“Sorry, I always forget about them,” Castiel apologizes.

“Forget? How the hell do you manage that, boy?” Bobby voices Dean’s thoughts.

Castiel chuckles and shrugs. “I made up my mind I wasn’t going to let it define me. A man is more than his wings.”

“I ain’t gonna argue with you on that, Castiel. Gotta admit, I never thought I’d see you back in this place, though,” Bobby says. “Dean, boy, you need to close your trap ‘fore you catch a few flies.”

Dean snaps his mouth shut and grips the back of his neck uneasily. Castiel smiles, though.

“It’s ok, Dean,” he says. “I know it’s a shock to see them for the first time.”

“Cas … how … why did you come back?”

“Didn’t Bobby tell you? I’m working at the VA hospital,” Castiel explains, turning back to Dean. “I specialize in wing repair for soldiers. I’m developing new imping techniques to restore physical appearance and use.”

Dean blinks and gestures at the wings peeking out from behind Castiel. “But if you can repair them … why --?”

“I didn’t lose mine in battle, Dean,” Castiel says quietly. “I enlisted after I healed … when my family moved away from here. The men I served with … the other soldiers I saw … most wore their fractured and shattered wings with pride. But some were so badly damaged; they would have been discharged from the life they loved. So I started basic imping with feathers donated by their fellow soldiers. That’s how it started anyway.”

“Doesn’t explain why you ain’t fixed your own, kid,” Bobby says.

Castiel smiles faintly. “I haven’t because they remind me every day to _live_ and not focus on what I’ve lost. Enough about me … will you be able to work on my bike?”

Dean meets the blue eyes and nods. “Yeah, Cas … we’ll take good care of it for you.”

The dove calls a cab to take him to the hospital so he can begin settling in – he leaves with a smile to Dean. Bobby comes up behind the younger hawk and puts a firm hand down on his shoulder.

“You’re already mated, Dean,” he reminds the young man.

Dean shrugs the touch off. “I know that, Bobby! Did I say anything?”

“Don’t have to, the way you’re lookin’ at him,” Bobby grumbles. “You had a thing for him back then, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t anything, Bobby. He had a crush on me is all,” Dean replies wearily.

“And you?”

“He was my friend, Bobby. And I was with Lisa,” Dean murmurs. “We never imprinted.”

Dean walks away into the garage to discard his jacket and begin his work day. Bobby watches him go with a knowing shake of the head. His words are too soft for Dean to hear.

“Idjit, you just did.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dean pulls into his mother’s driveway. Lisa says nothing as she unbuckles her seat belt and gets out. Dean sighs. Since he got home from work, she’s been giving him the silent treatment. Dean knows she didn’t want to come to dinner tonight but for once, he didn’t let her sway him. He needs his family tonight. Dean steps into the house where he grew up.

“Dean,” Mary Winchester says warmly as she greets him with a hug.

Dean returns the hug and holds on a little longer than normal. Mary makes a soft coo of surprise, but only tightens her arms around him before pecking lightly against his cheek and stepping back. It saddens him to see her take a surreptitious glance around to ensure Lisa isn’t nearby before sliding her hand up to his cheek with a questioning look. Dean takes her wrist and kisses her palm.

“Later, mom,” he whispers.

Mary nods and turns back toward the kitchen. “It’s about time you two come over! I never see you anymore!”

Dean grins at his mom’s cover and follows her into the warm place that was the center of his life for so many years. Lisa sits at the large island with a glass of ice tea. He sighs and goes to get his own glass before his mother shoos him away.

“I’ll get it for you … just sit,” Mary scolds.

Dean does, taking a stool beside Lisa. He watches his mother move through the kitchen easily and remembers when he and Sam used to be constantly underfoot. She never missed a beat, dancing around her chicks while making dinner until their father swooped in and chased them screeching into the living room. When Mary hands Dean his tea, her fingers linger on his as they pass the glass and he meets her eyes sadly. A loud commotion comes from the front door, breaking the moment and a heartbeat later, Dean has a lapful of chick. Sam’s four year old son, Johnny, is the spitting image of his father at that age. Downy wings flutter madly on his back sending fluff everywhere. Lisa covers her glass and moves to the far end of the island.

“Well, I see a baby moose, where could the papa moose be?” Dean says, making Johnny giggle and point.

Sam Winchester walks into the kitchen, only slightly ducking his six-foot-four frame to clear the doorway. He rolls his eyes at Dean. He’s a sparrow as Dean predicted but no one expected the slender bookworm would hit a massive growth spurt not long after his first molt. His wingspan is enormous which of course prompts teasing from his older brother. They hug, squeezing John between them.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Unca Dean said a bad word!” Johnny yells, leaping to the floor and racing over to his mother. 

Dean endures the twin glares from his mother and Sam’s mate, Jessica. The lovely blond dove gives Dean an indulgent smile as she hugs him. 

“You realize I have to kill you when my chick starts cursing at the ripe age of four?” Jess teases. She looks past him and moves to hug Lisa. “Hey stranger, long time no see.”

For a few moments, Dean basks in the simple energy of life filling the kitchen. Johnny darts around the kitchen until Sam scoops him up and takes him out the backyard, carrying him under one arm like a football. Dean follows after snagging a couple of beers from the fridge. He watches Sam whip his son out from under his arm to toss him in the air. Dean takes an involuntary step forward but Sam stops him and they watch as Johnny flutters to the ground. He runs to his father with happy screeches and Sam grabs him up again in a hug.

“I did it I did it I did it!”

Sam laughs and presses a kiss to the mop of brown hair. “You did!”

“Unca Dean did you see did you see!”

“I did, little man! You’re already better than your dad was at your age.”

Johnny’s eyes widen and he looks up at Sam. “Rea’y?”

Sam nods. “Really. I wouldn’t even jump off the jungle gym at the park.”

Johnny giggles. “That’s  _eaaasy_ .”

“Ok, you hooligans, dinner!” Mary yells from the door. 

“M’not a hoo’gan,” Johnny grumbles from Sam’s shoulder as they walk back.

Dean laughs. “You’re a Winchester … we’re  _all_ hooligans, kid.”

* * *

Dinner starts pleasantly enough, but Dean’s luck is, as usual, mercurial. Sam snaps his fingers and says brightly, “Guess what! I saw Castiel Novak today!”

Dean nearly swallows his fork and the response from Lisa is instant.

“Well now I know why your wet dreams started up again!” she screeches, throwing down her napkin and stalking out to the backyard.

“Oh shit, sorry, Dean, I didn’t –“

Dean waves off his little brother’s apology. “Not your fault, Sammy. I just found out today myself.”

“Dean,” Mary says quietly.

“Mom … I know,” Dean says tiredly.

Before he can go out to see Lisa, she storms back into the room. Johnny is in his mother’s lap, uneasily flapping his wings in the wake of the tempest. Lisa stands beside Dean’s chair.

“Give me the keys,” she demands.

“Lis’ …”

“Give me the fucking keys, Dean,” the sparrow snaps.

“Lisa! Enough!” Mary retorts as Jess gets up to take Johnny out of the room.

Lisa rounds on Mary. “Go ahead … protect your precious little Dean. You never wanted me to mate with him anyway. You never wanted us to be together … neither did John.”

“I’ll drive you home,” Dean growls. “This is between you and me – leave them out of it.”

Sam’s wings brush against Dean’s as he walks out of the kitchen and he returns the touch, grateful for his little brother’s support. Lisa slams the Impala door shut and waits for him to get in before rounding on him. Dean  starts the engine and ignores her as she yells the entire drive home. When they get home, he gets out and goes into the house without looking back. He walks past the room set aside for a nest that hasn't happened. His fault, too. He goes to their closet and grabs his old duffel. He shoves clothes in it and turns to go. Lisa stands in the doorway, arms crossing her chest.

“So what ... you're just going to leave? Just going to run away to your family? They hate me, you know ... I've _never_ been wanted in your precious little Winchester clan,” Lisa cries.

Dean looks up tiredly. “What difference does it make, Lis'? Neither one of us wants this anymore. We just keep hurting each other over and over.”

“It's _him_ , isn't it?”

“Him _who_ , Lis'?” Dean asks.

“That fucking dove ... he's back and you just can't wait to pin him, can you?”

Dean groans and looks up at the ceiling. “Lisa, do you know how  _insane_ that sounds? I didn't even know Cas was back in town until today! And what do you think is going to happen? In case you forgot, I'm the reason he was on the street that night! I'm the reason those sick fucks found him and hurt him. What kind of freak would want to get with the guy who did that?”

Dean shakes his head when no response is forthcoming. He hefts his duffel farther up on his shoulder and walks past the sparrow. She stops him with a hand on one arm.

“You're wrong, Dean. I _do_ want this ...  I love you so much --”

Dean walks to the nest room. Inside is a half-completed crib and a full-size bed that was supposed to make it a guest room until they had an egg of their own. He glances around the bed while Lisa looks on confused.  When he sees what he was looking for, Dean picks it up and turns.

“Yeah ... you love me so much you've been fucking Reggie in _our home_ for how long?” Dean says darkly. “He never grooms like he should so he drops feathers all over. Remember we used to give him shit for it?”

“That – that's old – we haven't --” Lisa stammers.

Dean drops the feather with a disgusted sound. “Try telling someone who gives a shit, Lisa. I'm done.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Suicide attempt.

Dean drives to the shop, deciding to crash on the cot Bobby has in the back. He makes a quick stop for a bottle of cheap tequila first. After a few minutes of staring at the ceiling, Dean gets up and walks out to the bay. He looks over the cars up on racks and then his eyes fall on Castiel’s motorcycle.

Dean’s imagination immediately supplies him with an image of Castiel, decked out in his biker garb, sitting on the powerful machine going down the road. He puts his bottle down on the cement floor and picks up the helmet resting on the back.   Turning it over in his hands, Dean brings it up to his face and inhales. His wings flare as the sweet scent hits him. Dropping to his knees, Dean leans his forehead against the bike’s leather seat and makes soft sounds as tears start sliding down his face. Wiping at them angrily, Dean gets up and puts the helmet on a workbench while he gets his tools.

Taking drink after drink while he works, Dean systematically cleans the bike of road grime and repairs the few things he finds wrong. He’s working himself into a solid drunk, he knows but at this point, Dean just wants to sleep and pretend the day never happened. His hands work of their own volition, his mechanical instincts enough to prevent him from damaging the bike. When it’s done, he stumbles to put up his tools and goes to the cot.

Dean fumbles out his wallet and pulls out a picture he cropped out of a yearbook after Castiel’s family moved away. He looks at the young dove, the picture having been taken before his first molt.

“You always were pretty, Cas,” Dean mutters to the photo. “You were fucking gorgeous when – before – ah, fuck my life!”

Dean lets the picture flutter to the ground as memories assault him through a swirling fog of tequila. His eyes fill with tears again as he remembers the rest of the night after Lisa’s fateful party …

* * *

_“Dean Winchester, you get your ass down here now!” John’s voice booms through the house._

_Dean comes down the stairs slowly. He hears Sam behind him, but waves his little brother to stay back out of sight. His wings are drawn up tightly against his back. When he gets within arm’s reach, his father grabs his arm and jerks him into the living room. Mary Winchester chirps anxiously behind him._

_Dean stares at his dad in confusion from the couch he’s been thrown onto … he thought he knew what he was in trouble for but now he’s not sure._

_“D-dad? I don’t – is this about the party? I didn’t mean to knock Cas into the arch. I’ll pay for the damage –“_

_“You think I’m mad about some – some party? Dean, Castiel Novak is in the hospital. He was attacked – is it – is it true you rejected him? That you knew he imprinted on you and you rejected him?”_

_Dean jumps to his feet. “Who told you that? Cas has had a fucking crush on me since we molted, Dad! That’s it! Just a crush! We never imprinted! He’s just a stupid fucking dove with a crush!”_

_John’s hand snaps out and Dean’s head comes around painfully. His responding screech is full of anger and defiance. John’s call, however, has even Mary cringing. Sam chirps in distress and races upstairs to his room. The door slam makes Dean’s heart ache._

_“So you think your mother and your little brother are just ‘stupid doves’?”_

_Dean runs a hand through his hair pulling it out wildly. “You know I don’t! I just … Cas was always giving me little gifts … he knew I was dating Lisa! Lisa is who I wanna date, not … not him.”_

_John groans and unconsciously performs the same hair-pulling action as Dean. He rounds on his oldest chick. “Well, son, you won’t have to worry about that, although I don’t know what legal action the Novaks are going to consider.”_

_“Le-legal action? But I didn’t –“_

_Mary steps up and for some reason the disappointment in her eyes makes Dean want to curl up under her warm wings like a chick just out of his egg. She sighs heavily, laying a hand on John’s forearm while gently stroking her wings along the hawk’s._

_“Dean,” she begins softly. “Dean, it’s usually the dove that imprints first. If the hawk is willing, they’ll eventually respond in kind. Sometimes, like with your father and I, it goes the other way. Castiel’s instincts were leading him to offer himself to you … a reverse courting of sorts. All his gifts and gestures … I suspected but I didn’t want to force you into anything.”_

_“But – but Lisa …”_

_Mary snorts derisively and Dean feels his temper rise. “Lisa Braeden cares about one person, Dean – Lisa Braeden. She has never show care for you like Castiel.”_

_“You just never gave her a chance --- you’ve been trying to get me to notice Cas all this time, haven’t you?”_

_“Dean Winchester, you will watch your tone with your mother,” John warns._

_“But I didn’t do anything! Why would they sue us or whatever?”_

_Mary sits down, suddenly looking older and more tired. “Because your rejection led Castiel to take risks he normally wouldn’t have … might have put him in jeopardy. You’re a hawk, Dean. Hawks are supposed to protect doves … not cast them to the wolves.”_

_“I didn’t know,” Dean whines. “Is he hurt bad? Is he going to be ok?”_

_John’s anger has bled away and he realizes his son is about to learn a hard lesson about life and he’s only seventeen. He motions to the door._

_“Come on … you can see him if they’ll let you,” John mutters. “I told you how special things were between hawks and doves that’ve imprinted Dean. I told you.”_

* * *

Dean’s boneless fingers let the bottle drop to the cot. It bounces off onto the floor where it shatters. Tears blur Dean’s fingers as he looks over the edge and sees that the liquid has flowed to the photo he dropped. It floats on a sea of liquor and he sniffs.

* * *

_Castiel had been in a coma when they walked into the hospital room. Dean remembers standing there looking at the dove surrounded by tubes and wires and bandages. Even his wings had been covered and Dean thinks he’ll never forget the red flowers blooming everywhere against the white as evidence that the wings beneath were anything but whole. A sharp, cloying sweetness fills the air and Dean realizes it’s Castiel. He looks at up at Castiel’s father, Charles. The man nods, reading Dean’s question on the boy’s face._

_“They forced him … that’s his wing oil you smell … my boy … my sweet, sweet dove and those animals forced him and then they tore his wings to shreds!”_

_Dean winces at the sparrow’s voice rising in anger. “M-mr. Novak, I’m … I didn’t mean –“_

_“Whatever you didn’t mean, Dean, this is the result. I think you should go. I don’t want you to be here if Castiel wakes up,” Charles says tiredly. He looks at John. “And I’m filing an order of restraint against your son. I don’t want them within a thousand feet of each other ever again.”_

_“Now how do you think that’ll work with them going to the same school?”_

_“Oh, make no mistake … I will see to it that your son never steps foot_ _into that school again, Mr. Winchester.”_

* * *

Dean stares at the photo slowly sinking into the tequila. In the end, Charles Novak had simply packed up his family and moved. Dean had finished out his senior year at school a pariah and a recluse. Lisa had eventually sought him out after graduation but when he’d needed someone … anyone … he’d been alone. His father had barely spoken to him after that night. It had become the topic no one breached. Dean was cut from the team and his scholarships evaporated. The one person who kept him from driving his car into the nearest abutment had been Sammy. His little brother had crawled into Dean’s bed that same night and forgiven him. And at the tender age of fourteen, he’d held his big brother while Dean sobbed his heart out.

Dean wishes Sam were here now but he’s alone in the back of the auto shop. He looks at the picture and sees the shards of glass from his bottle. Dean picks one up and studies it for a moment before dropping it. Hell, if he’s going to do this, he can do better than a stupid piece of glass. Reaching into his pocket, Dean pulls his folding knife with the ceramic blade. He doesn’t even bother thinking. Thinking never gets him anywhere. He just goes with his heart and slices long and deep. It burns as the crimson begins flowing down his arms. He drops the knife, unable to hold it any longer. He hates that Bobby will be the one to find him. Bobby was always good to him … gave him a job he loves now when he thought he had no more future. But Dean hates the pain in his soul even more … the empty place that will never be filled. The pit that is now swallowing him whole can have him. Dean doesn’t care anymore.

He’s on the verge of passing out when he hears glass breaking.  Did he drop another bottle?  A shrill cry echoes in the room. He knows the voice and thinks it’s fitting that it’s the last thing he remembers before dying. What confuses him is when the voice deepens and then yells at him.

“Why the _hell_ do you do everything the hard way, Winchester?”

Dean blinks open his eyes and finds a pair of blue ones fairly sparking with rage looking down at him.

“C-cas?”


	8. Chapter 8

Dean blinks his eyes open. The light in the room is dim but from the requisite ceiling tiles, he guesses he’s in the hospital. Dean raises his right hand and finds it bandaged from wrist almost half-way up his arm. An IV is taped to the back of his hand and his fingers feel strange, almost like they aren’t attached to his body. Dean frowns and wiggles them, then hisses at the pain that causes.

“You cut the tendons,” a deep, gravelly voice says. “You could have destroyed your ability to use your hands, you idiot.”

Dean jumps, his heart rate spiking on the monitor. The beeping doesn’t slow when he realizes Cas is sitting next to his bed regarding him steadily. Dean swallows and looks at his other arm to see it bandaged in a similar way. He remembers slicing deep with the knife.

“You found me?” Dean asks.

Castiel stretches, his battered wings moving with his arms. He sighs and stands up. “Yes … Sam texted me that you had a serious argument with Lisa and he thought we should talk. He sent me to the shop. He said you went there to be alone sometimes.”

Dean nods. “Not sure you should have bothered but … thanks.”

Castiel’s wings flutter and he slams his hand down on the light switch making Dean try to shield his eyes at the sudden glare.

“What the hell, Cas?”

A strong hand grips his chin and Dean grunts when his gaze is turned to face the blazing blue eyes he saw just before he lost consciousness. He really wishes he didn’t find them so arresting and tries to pull away. Whatever life Castiel has led since leaving town, it’s left him wicked strong. And Dean doesn’t know what to do with the way that makes him feel.

“I shouldn’t have _bothered?_ Are you actually going to lay there and tell me you _still_ refuse to feel the bond between us? Are you _that_ fucking stubborn?” Castiel snarls.

Dean swallows again, painfully. It’s like all the spit in his mouth just dried up. Or, maybe it just all became tears, because water leaks down his face and all he can force out is a pitiful, “ _Cas_.”

The dove releases Dean and runs a hand through his hair. His hand reaches out toward Dean and for one crazy moment, Dean thinks he’s about to be pulled into a kiss. The moment dissipates and Castiel clenches his hand into a fist before grabbing his jacket. He stalks out of the room with a growled, “I’ll call your family” over one shoulder.

Dean feels the dove’s absence keenly. His heart is still beating fast and his arms are beginning to ache. He’s alive and all the pain that goes with the realization is settling on him fast. Dean sobs.

* * *

“Dean?”

The voice is soft and tender. _Mom_.

Dean opens his eyes and squints. He must have fallen asleep because it’s day now – the sun is streaming into the room like it wants to take over. He feels heat creep up his face at the devastated look on his mother’s face. He shakes his head, voice abandoning him. She doesn’t say anything, just leans over to press a kiss to his forehead. Her warmth takes a little of the chill out of his skin. She presses her palm against his cheek for a moment before moving to settle in the chair Castiel abandoned. Mary cradles Dean’s hand and gently runs her thumb over his fingers.

“Don’t you leave me, Dean Winchester. Not like this. Don’t you _dare_ do something like this again,” Mary says hoarsely. “I held you when you hatched and I have loved you every minute of every day since. You are my son, my chick, my precious little boy but you do not get to run away because life is overwhelming you. That’s what family is _for_ , Dean … to help you when it all gets too much.”

“I fucked up so bad, mom … everything … it’s all my fault …” Dean replies thickly.

“No it’s _not_ , Dean.”

Mary and Dean look over to see Sam standing in the doorway looking completely wrecked. For all his height, the sparrow looks small and miserable. He walks over to Dean and leans over his brother, putting his head on Dean’s chest. Dean’s wings brush against Sam’s and he brings up one bandaged arm to clumsily stroke the dark hair. Sam looks at him, his hazel eyes wet.

“It’s not your fault … it wasn’t then and it isn’t now. Damn it, Dean! You’re my big brother – I still _need_ you! And what about your nephew? What am I supposed to tell him? That Uncle Dean just checked out?”

“Sammy, I’m _sorry_ … I just thought –“

Sam stands, his wings trembling. “Mom’s right, Dean. You don’t get to do this again – you don’t get to run.”

Dean nods, unable to talk around the lump in his throat. It only gets worse when Bobby comes to see him, all gruff warnings and watery eyes. Jess lays into him and Dean is actually a little afraid of her when she leaves. Sam smirks throughout the tirade and the brothers exchange a fond “Jerk” and “Bitch” when as he leaves. Mary gives him another kiss.

“Get some rest, Dean. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Ok mom … and mom? I love you.”

Mary smiles gently. “My stubborn little chick. Your father swore you were going to stay in the shell forever, you took so long to hatch.”

Dean’s face falls. “Mom … I’m sorry … about Dad –“

Mary sternly frames Dean’s face with her hands. “You weren’t the only one at fault, Dean. Who do you suppose _gave_ you that stubborn streak? Your father loved you, Dean. He cherished you and if he could have gone back in time to fix it, he would have. He didn’t blame you for what happened to Castiel … don’t blame yourself.”

* * *

Dean sleeps for a bit but he wakes with the uneasy feeling he’s being watched. Looking around, he sees Castiel standing by the window, looking at the evening creeping in. His jacket lies discarded on the chair again and he’s wearing a wash-faded gray t-shirt with his usual worn jeans and boots. Dean sees a near-sleeve of tattoos covering the muscular arms and his wings shiver. At the sound, Castiel turns.

“Hello, Dean,” he smiles.

“Cas … I didn’t think you’d come back,” Dean replies, picking at the blanket edge.

Castiel walks over to stand beside the hawk that has filled so many of his waking thoughts over the past twelve years. He looks down at the bandaged arms and coos softly. Shaking his head, Castiel trails gentle fingers down the gauze until he reaches the back of Dean’s hand. He curls his fingers in to a fist again and grips the bed rail instead.

“Damn it, Winchester. I have tried so hard to forget I ever knew you,” Castiel mutters, head down.

Dean swallows and reaches out to place his hand on Castiel’s hand. He feels it grip the rail harder and lets his own drop back to the blanket. He looks away.

“I know – I wish – you don’t have to stay, Cas. You lost everything ‘cause of me. I don’t blame you for wanting to be free of it,” Dean says, his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest.

A snort makes him look back. Castiel stares at Dean as he fights to hold his laugh back but it breaks free anyway. Dean frowns, not understanding Castiel’s humor but he likes the sound. He always did like Castiel’s laugh. It’s bright and loud without any inhibition. He just doesn’t get the joke. Finally, the other man wipes his eyes and runs hands over a face that Dean realizes is tired with shadows under the eyes.

“Dean … Dean, man, you are just as thick-headed now as you were then,” he chuckles. “Do you still really know that little about imprinting?”

Dean’s frown deepens. “I didn’t understand it then, Cas. I was a _kid_.”

“So was I, Dean,” Castiel replies. “I imprinted on you … hell, I crushed on you since the day we met but after our first molt … you were it, Dean. You were everything.”

Dean looks at the dove, remembering how desperate the boy Castiel had tried to persuade Dean they were bound to one another. He remembers blue eyes that practically glowed whenever they looked at him. He remembers midnight-black wings that he always wanted to spread out beneath him. He remembers when Castiel left.

“The shop … when you dropped off your bike,” Dean says quietly.

“What?”

“That’s when I knew … that’s when I – when I imprinted on you, Cas. You were always special but … that’s when …”

Castiel stares at the hawk. “You’re kidding --?”

Dean shakes his head with a rueful chuckle. “Dude, you’re the one who told me I do everything the hard way. Guess I’m a late bloomer.”

Castiel slides the bed rail down and presses his lips to Dean’s before the hawk has time to realize what’s happening. Dean makes a surprised squawk but he doesn’t push the dove away. The lips against his are chapped and the stubble burns but he suddenly understands all the things his father tried to tell him so long ago. Dean feels the world narrow down to the mouth on his … to the taste of the man he’s dreamt about for twelve long fucking years. He groans and opens when a rough tongue runs over his lips. The resultant trill from Castiel nearly makes him swoon. He tries to lift his arms but Castiel is pulling back, pressing Dean’s hands down gently.

“No – no – I can’t … we can’t –“ Castiel stammers.

Wait, _what_?

“What do you mean, we can’t, Cas … I told you – I imprinted on you that day in the shop. I want to be with you, Cas.”

“And what about Lisa, Dean? You mated with her. Built a nest.”

Dean shakes his head. “I built a house, Cas. Not a nest. It’s never been a nest –“

“Oh, isn’t that what every girl wants to hear.”

Dean’s head snaps around in shock. Lisa stands in the door way, her face pale and tear stained. His mouth hangs open.

“Lisa, what are you doing here?”

The sparrow’s eyes are flashing in a way he knows too well. Lisa is furious. Castiel grabs his jacket.

“I should go. You two need to talk.”

Lisa turns her fury on the dove. “You fucking brooder … you ruin _everything_!”

She flares her wings and flies at Castiel in a rage. Suddenly, Dean is back at the party twelve years ago watching the sparrow’s fingers hook into claws with long fingernails ready to do serious damage. Dean doesn’t think, he just rips everything free and comes off his bed with a screech that echoes in the small room. His wings are in full spread and he doesn’t even feel when Lisa digs her hands into his feathers, tearing out double handfuls. All he can think is that he has to save Castiel. He has to protect his mate. His eyes are nearly black with rage as instinct overtakes him and he slams Lisa to the floor with one wing. He screeches again, his call warning her that if she tries to reach Castiel, he’ll most probably kill her. He assumes a mantling posture, bending low over Lisa to keep her down and to put him in a better position to attack if she tries to get up.

Castiel is cooing behind him, trying to calm Dean before he does something that will destroy his life. The hawk registers the sound and his shoulders drop, wings retracting slightly. The arrival of hospital security and staff nearly send Dean into another attack but Castiel manages to get around the hawk’s considerable wingspan and gently stroke his face.

“Dean … Dean, come back … she’s not worth it. She was never worth it …”

Lisa screeches but a guard, reading the room correctly, grabs her and drags her out into the hallway. She goes shouting and what she says snaps Dean out of his fog.

“ _I should have paid them to kill you! You should have fucking died!”_

Dean stalks into the hall and Lisa suddenly cowers against the guard who puts a hand on Dean’s chest to stop him.

“I’m going to have to ask you to step back, sir,” he orders.

Dean ignores him and snarls. “What did you say? You – you _paid_ those sickos who attacked Cas?”

“He ruined my party … he was taking you away! I had to do something. I had to make him go away!” Lisa yells.

Dean stumbles back, unable to look at the woman he’s shared his bed and life with for so many years. He suddenly feels filthy and a moment later he’s throwing up … on Castiel’s boots. The dove doesn’t even bat an eye. He just guides Dean back to his bed.

“Cas, Cas I didn’t know …”

“I believe you, Dean … I know you … I believe you …”

“I love you, Cas … I really do … I’m sorry …”

Castiel smiles gently before taking tissues from a box on the nightstand to wipe Dean’s mouth. “I love you too, Dean. I always did.”

Castiel walks back to the door and watches the guard handcuffing Lisa. The doctor walks past him to take care of Dean. Castiel pulls the door shut and moves to stand in front of Lisa. His wings flare, showing her all their broken glory. He leans close and hisses at her.

“You broke me once and I lost him. If you come near him again, I’ll rip out each and every feather you have and trust me, _no one_ will be able to fix them.”

His hissing screech is that of a mate warning off an interloper. Castiel turns on his heel and goes back into Dean’s room without another glance behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas finally get some time alone ... here be sexy times. I did take creative license with a saint ... his name is actually Saint Peregrine Laziosi but I couldn't resist using him. I hope that doesn't offend anyone. This chapter sort of kept going and I haven't had time to do more than a basic beta reading so let me know if you see anything wildly off.

Dean clenches his fingers into a fist. His fine motor skills are still in question, but his physical therapist, Dr. Barnes, is confident he’ll be able to regain his full strength and dexterity back in time. He does his exercises faithfully – as if he had a choice with Sam, Jess and his mother breathing down his neck. Bobby too, although his nagging is mostly that Dean tries to work too long in the shop and over-exerts his arms. The free time has been both blessing and curse.

The statute of limitations has expired for what Lisa did – the D.A. will try to file charges but after so long, evidence is scarce. The only upside is that they live in a small town and everyone knows Castiel’s story. Dean remains quiet on the topic, but somehow or other the rumor that Lisa arranged for three football players to attack the dove has gotten around. Dean feels no sorrow for the near-public shunning she’s been enduring.

Dean ponders the feeling of near rage that flows through him whenever he thinks about Lisa’s face that night – how she’d sobbed over a ruined party all the while plotting to tear Castiel’s life apart. He loved Lisa somewhere along the way – she was there while he grieved alone over Castiel’s departure and his own personal hell of being blamed for the attack. He remembers his family begging him not to mate or marry her but Dean was too broken to heed their words. He needed someone … needed to make the void inside himself go away. He’d dreamed of a nest and a chick but when neither had fully realized, Dean knew he’d made a huge mistake. The beautiful sparrow that shared his home grew uglier by the day with her bitter accusations and dismissive attitude.

Dean wonders when she sought out Reggie for companionship. Reggie, his one-time buddy who not only betrayed his own marriage, he was one of the suspected attackers. It would be a cold day in hell before Dean looked at the man with anything less than the urge to break and shred both his wings. Dean groans, running a hand over his face. He’ll have a lot to tell Benny, his therapist. Mary had insisted her son get help which, he admits, was a good idea but some days he wonders if he’ll ever be ‘fixed’. Sam assures him that’s not the point … the point is to find the tools to deal with what’s happened so that it doesn’t affect his future any longer. All in all, Dean hates being seen as weak but he goes faithfully to every appointment. After all, he has a reason now – Castiel. He might not want to do this for himself but he’ll do anything for the dove.

Lost in thought, Dean doesn’t hear the doorbell at first. He finally registers it and goes to answer the door. Sam and Bobby moved everything Dean owned outright from the house the night of Lisa’s revelation into their mother’s garage and Dean moved back into her house until the rest can be sorted out in the divorce. A divorce that Sam, bless the gigantic sparrow, is fast-tracking as much as he can without giving up much on Dean’s behalf. He had Dean take exactly half of the savings and leave the rest of their money for Lisa while cancelling any cards they shared. Mary made it very clear to Lisa that she was not welcome at their house and any attempt to see Dean without a lawyer present would result in the police being called. Bobby delivered the same edict at the shop. Dean is grateful a thousand times over for his family because he now knows he wouldn’t be able to survive this alone. The Winchester clan has formed a wall Lisa will never be able to scale. Dean only hopes she’s smart enough to take what Sam offers and walk away. Even Dean is a little unnerved by the gleam that came into his little brother’s eyes when it was suggested Lisa might put up a fight just out of spite.

Dean opens the door and startles to see Castiel standing there. He’d been so into his own head, he hadn’t heard the dove’s distinctive bike rumbling up the drive. He cups the back of his head nervously.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean … why so serious?” Castiel asks, cocking his head to one side.

Dean waves the dove inside. He shakes his head. “Just a lot on my mind these days, Cas. What are you doing here? Don’t you have to work?”

The dove’s face splits into a wide grin that makes Dean’s chest ache a little. “I did but I cancelled my appointments for this afternoon. You and I are taking a ride.”

“Taking – Cas, no. You just started there, you can’t be taking off days to hang with me,” Dean protests.

For his trouble, he gets a motorcycle helmet shoved in his hands. “Shut up, Winchester. I’m the leading expert on feather imping in the entire _country_ and one of the top five in the _world._ They aren’t going to kick me to the curb because I took an afternoon off. Put on some shoes, dude. We’re leaving in five.”

“Don’t call me ‘dude’ and where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise, _duh_ ,” Castiel drawls.

Dean rolls his eyes and goes to pull on socks and his boots. He leaves his mother a note and makes sure to grab his phone before heading out the door with Castiel. The dove snugs the helmet down on Dean’s head, laughing at the hawk’s face before pulling on his own helmet. Dean hears Castiel’s voice a moment later over the built-in Bluetooth headset as he gets on the bike and has his arms drawn around the dove’s waist. He tenses, not wanting to give away too much how he likes the way his legs fit around Castiel’s hips and his torso curves over the broad back. The dove’s wings are retracted but they still brush against Dean’s arm.

“Relax, Dean,” Castiel says.

Dean snorts. “Easy for you to say, fledge-head, I’m used to being surrounded by sturdy metal.”

Castiel glances over at the Impala. “Yeah, I noticed you were still driving that heavy metal wet-dream.”

“Watch it, Novak. Don’t be dissin’ Baby,” Dean warns without any real threat.

“I appreciate her,” Castiel says as they get underway. “But open road on my bike? Next best thing to flying.”

Dean opens his mouth to snark back but then closes it. Castiel has never really flown as an adult, not with his wings damaged like they are and the entirety of the dove’s loss hits him again. As if reading his mind, Castiel brushes his wing firmly against Dean’s arm.

“Sorry, Dean. I wasn’t lying when I said I forget about them most days,” Castiel says. “If it’s a problem --”

Dean’s answer comes before he really has a chance to think about it. “Cas, they’re your wings, man – I’ll get over it.”

It’s not eloquent, but apparently it’s what Castiel wants to hear because his responding coo is soft and fond. Dean tightens his arms around the dove and they continue the ride in silence. It isn’t long before they are pulling into a place Dean knew existed but had never had reason to visit. Trinity Heights is a collection of Catholic shrines, chapels and gardens on the grounds of the old Trinity college and school. They park and carry their helmets with them. Dean follows Castiel until they come to the largest steel sculptures he’s ever seen. They walk to a roped off section of bricks set in the ground in the shape of a cross. A sculpture of Christ overlooks it with a wingspan that’s massive. Nearby an American flag flaps in the breeze and benches encircle the place, inviting people to sit.

“Cas?”

“It’s the Veteran’s Memorial. It’s a new addition since I left,” he replies, looking up at the sculpture. “I used to come here to the gardens when we lived here. Good place to do homework.” Castiel grins ruefully at Dean.

Dean reaches out and cups Castiel’s face. “How did I miss _you_ all those years ago, Cas?”

Castiel smiles and presses against Dean’s hand. “No clue, Winchester. I was freakin’ gorgeous after my molt.”

Dean laughs and somehow finds himself kissing the dove. They’ve seen each other sporadically since his hospital stay but always around friends or family. While everyone knew Castiel before, they’ve been learning the man he’s become since. Dean hasn’t made any intimate gestures or comments. He’s letting the dove set the pace. Castiel is the one truly precious second chance he’s ever had and he refuses to ruin it.

Dean is surprised but the chapped lips are welcoming and Castiel trills softly, a sign the dove is pleased. The kiss is soft and tender but manages to leave them both a little breathless. Both of them feel the imprint bond swirl between them.

Dean presses his forehead to Castiel’s. “You’re still pretty hot, fledge-head. You’ve got that whole biker bad boy thing goin’ on.”

Castiel snickers. “Who would have thought, hmm? From nerd to easy rider.”

“Looks good on you, Cas … although I think it’s more Sons of Anarchy.”

Castiel actually blushes and pushes away from Dean. He sighs and looks up at Christ watching them before taking Dean’s hand.

“Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Dean threads their fingers together and willingly follows the dove along paved paths that lead all over the grounds. He listens as Castiel tells him about every sculpture and then the saints.

“My family is very religious,” Castiel explains. “I’m named after the angel of Thursday, Gabe is named after the messenger angel and Balthazar is one of the three wise men.”

Castiel stops in front of a statue of a saint. The man’s wings are striking mostly because one is threadbare of feathers like Castiel’s and the other is lushly feathered. He looks over at the dove.

“This is Saint Peregrine … he lost his wings to a virus. But when he dedicated his life to spiritual service, a miracle happened and his feathers reappeared on Easter morning,” Castiel tells the story with a soft, reverential tone.

“You believe that?” Dean asks.

Castiel tilts his head. “I’d like to believe it was true … I thought about this statue a lot after we left. When I thought I’d lost everything … it gave me hope.”

Dean blinks rapidly as he compares Castiel’s wings to the saint’s. He slides his hand back into the dove’s and is rewarded with a shy smile totally unlike the badass biker doctor. Instead, it recalls the days when Castiel left gifts in Dean’s locker. He pulls the other man closer for a kiss and gently brushes their wings together. Castiel coos as they separate.

“I’d give every feather I have to fix yours, Cas,” Dean murmurs against the rough lips.

Castiel trills softly and pulls away. His hand, however, stays tangled with Dean’s. The hawk lets himself be led back to the bike in silence. They ride back into the city limits a little faster than is perhaps safe but Dean barely notices. His entire attention has narrowed to the dove bracketed by his thighs and the torso his arms are locked around.

They arrive in front of a white house full of windows. The fenced yard is neat and containers of plants and flowers dot the long porch which has a swing at one end. Dean walks in with Castiel and stares at the dark tones of the interior. Books cover almost every free shelf and surface of what he can see. Down a hall leading straight through the house, Dean sees a bright kitchen. He doesn’t have time to take anything else in, because Castiel is taking the helmet out of his hand and then leading him up the stairs. Dean balks.

“Cas … are you --?”

The dove comes back to stand a step above Dean. He frames the hawk’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply before starting up again. “I’m sure, Dean.”

Dean swallows his nerves and pauses only to shoot a quick text to Sam to tell Mary not to wait up before locking the phone and taking the steps leading him closer to what he’s wanted for twelve long years.

* * *

Dean gives a startled squawk when Castiel opens the door to his room. The dove looks at him uneasily, but Dean’s expression isn’t one of disgust like he’d feared. Instead, it’s one of wonder.

“Do you – like it?” Castiel asks as he shucks off his jacket.

Dean does the same while nodding. “Cas … it’s beautiful. It’s … perfect.”

The room is fashioned in the older styles of years past with a large octagonal skylight set into the roof. Beneath that, in the center of the room is a matching wood octagonal frame that holds all manner of pillows, quilts, and blankets – the modern equivalent of a nest. It’s fashioned from the same dark wood that fills the home with carvings of trees, leaves and other stylized images from the forest all around. Dean has seen these in historic homes before and he was always drawn to it. Nest has come to mean the home entire, but this work of art makes Dean’s heart flutter with wings of its own. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of finding with a mate – home, family and love. He backs Castiel against the frame, his tongue demanding and gaining entrance to the dove’s mouth. Hands rove over his chest, tugging his shirt from his jeans and pushing it up and off. Castiel kisses over Dean’s chest as they both toe off boots and socks.

“God, you’re gorgeous, Dean,” Castiel says softly.

Dean feels his face heat but he can’t stop the grin that blossoms. “And you, Cas, are wearing too many clothes … way too many.”

The dove smirks and steps back to pull off his own t-shirt. He stops after undoing his belt and the button on his jeans. Dean’s mouth is dry as the Sahara when he sees the long dark line of tiny ventral feathers leading his gaze precisely where they were intended to – Castiel unzips his jeans slowly and relishes the hawk’s brief, muted screech when he lets them drop entirely.

Dean’s wings are flared now, turned to show the underside. He feels a shifting along the lines of feathers as certain hidden ones are sudden moved to the forefront to better catch the light. Coppery highlights appear, bright and warm. Castiel coos softly, his attention instantly drawn to them. He reaches out a hand to touch even as his own wings spread, showing – ragged bunches of feathers.

Dean senses what’s about to happen and moves quickly. He gets his wings beneath Castiel’s before the dove can retract them tightly against his back. Wetness shines in the other man’s eyes and the arousal of a moment ago is gone. Dean kisses Castiel tenderly as his wings nudge Castiel’s out again.

“They’re beautiful, Cas … I want to see them … please?”

Castiel shakes his head even as Dean pulls him flush against his torso. “I forget … but they … I wanted to show you … wanted you to see … they were so amazing before, Dean.”

Dean kisses down Castiel’s jaw and along his neck. “Still are, fledge-head. Still are.”

“You don’t have to say –“

Dean pulls back, his eyes flashing. “Do we have to discuss this imprinting thing, Cas?”

Castiel frowns but then rolls his eyes. “You’re still as stubborn as a rock, Winchester.”

“Hard as one, anyway,” Dean quips.

Castiel’s hand slides down between them to shove Dean’s jeans off. He cups Dean through his boxer briefs and enjoys the sudden tightening of the hawk’s arms around him. His smile falters but he hides it quickly under another claiming kiss. Dean frowns and studies the dove’s face.

“Cas? You alright?”

The dove tries to move away but Dean’s wings and arms won’t let him go. He meets the hazel-green eyes he loves so much and makes his final confession.

“I’ve only – only one other time since – since that night,” Castiel admits, his face red.

Dean blinks. “Oh … _oh_. Cas … babe, oh Cas … God you are amazing.”

He buries his face against Castiel’s neck, scenting and tasting. The dove trills but it’s a confused sound even as his body struggles to respond.

“Dean? Dean … wait … I don’t – fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing!”

Dean’s soft huff of laughter isn’t unkind. He pushes the dove’s jeans off much like his own had been and grips the firm backside, pulling the dove against his own very ready cock.

“I’ve got you, Cas … relax, angel. I’ve got you,” Dean promises, his wings rubbing tenderly against the dove’s. “Slow as you want … slow as you need. If you don’t want this, you say so and I’ll stop. Nothin’ happens tonight that you don’t want to … but God do I want you.”

“You – you do?”

It’s Dean’s turn to tilt his head in curious confusion. “Since the day I kissed you in the hall, Cas. I screwed up so much between us – I can wait as long as you need. But you have to know – I’m done, Cas. I’m not leaving … I want you. Your wings are beautiful … just like I knew they would be – strong like you. So beautiful …”

Dean’s voice fades as he loses himself in the sensation of stroking over Castiel’s wing arch and down the bare back. Castiel groans softly as Dean’s fingers brush over his preen glands, gently milking out the oil used to groom and clean wings. He blinks in surprise at the scent that hits him even as Dean moans and drags his fingers over Castiel’s remaining feathers.

“You smell so great, angel … so good …” Dean murmurs as he continues to tenderly groom Castiel.

After a moment, Dean realizes Castiel has gone quiet and is shivering in Dean’s embrace. He pulls back with an alarmed chirp.

“Cas? Baby, did I --?”

The dove shakes his head, wiping at his eyes that continue to leak no matter what he does. “No, no you’re fine … better than fine … Dean, I – feel – is that … me?”

Dean frowns, his brain hazy with arousal but after a moment he parses what Castiel means.

“The smell? Yeah, Cas …that’s all you … sweet and awesome … smells like … bourbon pecan pie to me,” Dean chuckles. He tilts Castiel’s gaze up to his own. “You said you’d been with someone after …”

“I didn’t … it happened but it wasn’t good. They said I smelled sad and sour,” Castiel admits.

Dean feels an irrational burst of anger at the stranger who touched his dove … who dared to make Castiel feel somehow _less_ for what had happened to him. He cards his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, spreading the scent into the strands before pulling the man close and inhaling deeply.

“You smell perfect to me, Cas – you smell like … God, you smell like nest and home and pie and …”

Castiel coos softly, his own hands stroking tentatively up Dean’s back to the hawk’s glands. He sighs when he feels warm lightness slide over his fingers. Dean arches against the dove as strong hands thread into his feathers and gently begin to comb. Castiel mimics Dean’s movements by grooming his fingers through Dean’s hair. At his first inhale, his eyes flutter shut and he trembles. When he looks at Dean again, he finds the hawk regarding him with something he’s never seen outside his family – love and adoration. There is no judgment or disgust or even uncertainty – just Dean’s hazel-green eyes looking at him like he can’t get enough of the view.

“You smell … like spices … pie and cider,” Castiel reports almost giddily. “What are you doing to me, Winchester?”

Dean chuckles and his wings flare slightly. “Dunno, Cas, but I want to be doing a lot more to you right now.”

A soft smile slinks across Castiel’s face and gone is the shy dove uncertain about what he’s feeling – in his place is the confident, cocky man who knows what he wants and intends to have it. He hooks his thumbs in Dean’s briefs and pulls them down, making the hawk call softly … a warning and a promise.

Castiel nods and graceful crouches, pulling the underwear down and off before pressing the lightest of kisses against Dean’s cock. He stands, pulling his own down to stand unashamedly naked in front of Dean. The hawk wraps his arms around the muscled torso, noticing tattoos he’d been too turned on to see earlier. He makes a mental note to trace all of them later … _much_ later. With a single, strong flap Dean easily lifts them both into the nest. He brings them down with Castiel underneath him, the scent of the dove’s oil overwhelming as his body heats in desire. Castiel moves before Dean can even think and rolls over, kneeling with his back to Dean. The hawk chirps and pulls Castiel back against his chest, wing oil spreading over both of them. Dean curls his wings around Castiel’s and he feels a sudden drive to claim and mate. Castiel’s body is producing the sweet-smelling oil in a near steady stream now, running down his spine to tailbone and into his cleft. The dove pushes back against Dean’s erection with a sharp, demanding chirp. Dean groans.

“Cas … be sure, angel … I can’t … I don’t want to stop.”

“Want it … want you … please, Dean …”

Without pause, Dean’s fingers slide into the dove making the man cry out at the intrusion but it’s not a violation like so many years before … it’s a welcome stretch and burn as his body relaxes to eventually take the hawk’s considerable girth. Dean adds fingers until he’s four wide and Castiel is making helpless, pleading sounds. He pulls his wings in even tighter and, momentarily removing his fingers from Castiel, dampens the tips with oil and the dove’s natural slick.

“I got you, angel. I got you …” Dean assures as he resumes his internal torment of the dove’s sweet spot while his wing tips begin a steady light brushing over Castiel’s weeping cock. The sounds Castiel makes are better than any song either of them could produce. Dean teases until he knows the dove is so far gone he can’t even form words and then he whispers, “Come for me, angel.”

Castiel obeys in spectacular fashion, his back bowing out as his wings flutter madly as if caught in a storm gale. His call pierces Dean’s control and he removes his fingers only to immediately replace them with his cock. The dove’s body shudders as another wild climax claims him and Dean releases an ear-piercing screech, his own body rushing to follow the dove over the edge with only two deep thrusts. His wings snap out as he freezes, buried to the hilt inside Castiel. The dove sinks down into the nest as Dean’s orgasm gradually fades. Castiel can feel Dean’s emotions now, the bond between them almost complete. He coos softly, his body and heart finally content.

Dean makes soft calls and cries as he mantles over Castiel’s prone form, their bodies still tied. He’s lost in his more primal avian mind and Castiel instinctively knows he just has to lie still and quiet and happy beneath the hawk for now. Dean again grooms the dove’s wings tenderly, paying attention to every feather and trilling softly as he puts all of them to rights. His wing oil fills the nest with a sharp spice that mingles pleasantly with Castiel’s sweet scent. The dove grins to himself – _their_ scent. The room, the nest … everything is filled with _their smell._ He drifts, lost in the comfort of Dean’s after care. He barely feels Dean withdraw from his body. Dean turns him over and he allows it, boneless and compliant. The hawk nuzzles the dark thatch of wild hair as he lies back and pulls Castiel over him. The dove goes easily, their wings brushing against each other as they snuggle into the nest. It’s warm enough that they don’t need the blankets and Castiel doesn’t want to cover the strong body he’s lying against. Castiel watches as Dean brings a wing around and plucks a tiny feather buried under others. He crushes it in his fist, powdering it into a coppery dust with green highlights. The dove raises his head curiously.

“What is that?”

“Powder feather,” Dean explains. He combs the dust into Castiel’s feathers and they take on a faint shimmer. The light catches winks of emerald and copper as Castiel moves his wings. He smiles.

“I like it.”

Dean lays back, finally back in his own head. “Mmm, me too. Love you, angel.”

“What happened to ‘fledge-head’?” Castiel asks.

Dean opens his eyes and brushes the tousled locks with a fond smile. “Still that too … but here, with me … you’re my angel.”

Castiel smiles as the hawk sleepily kisses him. He curls against the man he’s loved for most of his life and feels thick, broad wings cover him. He feels protected and safe. He sleeps, confident that this time he won’t dream of anything but copper wings and hazel-green eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean has a little surprise for his dove. We're almost done -- thanks to everyone who's gone along for the ride with me.

Dean chirps miserably. Sweat rolls off his aching body to further soak the mattress beneath him.  The air seems to have settled like a heavy, humid blanket over his body despite the two oscillating fans in addition to the ceiling fan overhead.  Dean _hates_ molts on a good day but this one is worse than that.  He turns over on his stomach with a groan and slowly extends his wings.  Muscles reluctantly stretch and Dean hisses as he gradually manages to spread his wings to their full extension.  He moans piteously and perhaps a bit louder than he needs to before the door opens.

“Dean Winchester, stop acting like your wings are being sawed off,” Mary Winchester scolds. “It’s not like you’ve never molted before.”

Her hands bely any real irritation as they begin to gently massage his shoulder blade muscles and then work along the ridge of his wings. After a while of this, she smoothly combs her fingers through his remaining feathers, pulling out the loose ones so the new feathers can fall into place properly.  Dean’s chirps are softer now as he dozes under his mother’s familiar touch.  She chuckles.

“Poor Castiel … having to put up with such infantile behavior,” Mary teases.

“M’not a baby, mom,” Dean mutters into his pillow. “Molts _suck_ but this one _really_ sucks.”

“I know, my sweet chick. Remember why you’re doing this,” Mary urges.

Dean sighs and looks up at his mother. “I remember.  And I’ll do it every year for the same reason.”

Mary smiles and carefully gathers the large pile of loose feathers into a special bag. She helps Dean drink some water and brings him a small piece of cornbread filled with sausage bits and spicy chiles.  Dean smiles contentedly and sleeps again.

* * *

“Dean, I’m so sorry I’m not there for you,” Castiel apologizes. Dean sees the tent ruffling behind him and other men walking past wearing desert fatigues. 

“S’ok, fledge-head. You gotta go where the patients are,” Dean says easily.  “It’s just a fluke fever.  Doc said there’s nothin’ else wrong.”

“It still doesn’t make up for me not being there to care for you, Dean. Molts are annoying at best but a fever – you must be miserable.”

Dean scrambles for something to say to get his mate’s mind out of the sad rut. Any other time he’d milk the moment for sympathy because … well, because he’s a glutton for being pampered, but not while Castiel is overseas tending to wounded soldiers.

“So how’s Anwar?” Dean asks.

Castiel smiles broadly, warming instantly to the topic. “The surgery was a total success.  The damage was more localized than we thought – we only had to replace his radius and ulna.  After his recovery period, he should have full use of that wing again.  They can replace the support rods until he finishes growing.  Unfortunately, he’ll have less strength in that wing due to the muscle damage.”

Dean knows that bothers Castiel. Anwar is a young boy injured during a U.S. strike mission.  The soldiers that pulled him out of the rubble took him to their medic.  It was simple luck that Castiel was already in country for one of his volunteer medical trips.  Even though it makes Dean worry, he accepts the fact that his lover will never turn down others.  It’s what makes him the man he is – damaged or not, Castiel will always do what he can for those who’ve suffered as he has.  Dean knows Castiel would, if he could, repair every broken or damaged wing so completely no one would ever realize it had been injured.  Real life in a warzone means that can never actually happen, but Dr. Novak will do whatever he can to help. 

“Angel, you know he’s gonna be grateful for whatever you gave him – he’s got a chance at a future now and you did that,” Dean says.

“Not just me, Dean. It was –“

Dean laughs. “Babe, hush and take the compliment.  How long you have to stay now?”

“His recovery will take another week while we watch for rejection signs but everything looks favorable. I’m hoping two weeks at _most_ ,” Castiel says apologetically.

Dean waves it off. Inside he’s more than a little unhappy, but if anything, he’s king at not letting his emotions show. 

“Cas, babe, you gotta do this. I get that – and I’m so proud of you, I can’t even tell you.”

Castiel coos softly while his cheeks heat. No one who knows him would label Castiel a stereotypical dove, but even after a life learning to be more than what society dictates the dove can’t stop his body’s response to Dean.  All part and parcel of being imprinted … which, of course, means his mate’s tendency to push down whatever he might be feeling is exposed.

“Dean, I know you’re not happy about this – you don’t have to act like you are,” Castiel says.

Dean sighs. “No, I’m not.  My mate’s in another country where he can get shot or blown up daily.  Doesn’t mean I’ll try to keep you from going.  I love you, babe.  I want you to be happy.”

“I _am_ happy, Dean … I’ve got you,” the dove replies.

For a moment, when Castiel ducks his head, Dean can see the shy teen from so long ago. He loves those glimpses but it makes his heart ache for what might have been.  Castiel chirps anxiously.

“Dean?”

“I’m here, Cas.”

“You’re thinking too much,” Castiel says softly.

Dean smiles sadly at the screen. “Sorry, angel.  I just wish –“

“If wishes were fishes, babe,” Castiel teases the hawk gently.

“Stay safe, angel. I need you,” Dean says, his fingertips brushing over the screen.

Castiel’s hand does the same before he signs off and Dean feels like his chest will burst. He settles back to sleep and thanks God for second chances.  He dreams of white angel wings.

* * *

**Two Months Later**

“Dean, you know I’m not a big fan of surprises, right?” Castiel mutters.

Dean snickers, his hands over the dove’s eyes. “Yep, now hush.”

Castiel sighs heavily as he’s gently guided by Dean through the hallways of the VA hospital. He can guess where they’re headed but he’s confused as to why all the secrecy.  It’s one of the larger conference rooms and Castiel hears the breathing of several individuals when Dean closes the door behind him.  He tenses.

“Easy, fledge-head,” Dean teases as he slides his hand into Castiel’s. “Open your eyes.”

Blinking, Castiel sees Dean’s family – Sam, Jess, Mary, Bobby and even little Johnny perched on his father’s hip. More surprising to see are two of his colleagues from overseas, Dr. Suzaku Kimura and Dr. Alder Steuben.  He’s worked with them for many years developing the ground-breaking imping techniques that he hopes made lives better.

Before Castiel can question them, he’s goosed from behind and bodily lifted off his feet. An undignified squawk escapes him as he twists to free himself.  His attacker drops him and he spins to find himself looking at his eldest brother, Balthazar.  Gabriel stands smirking next to him and they all hug a moment later.  Ducking to escape the head noogie Gabriel is trying to bestow on him, Castiel looks over at his mate.

“Dean, what –“

“Gabe!” Dean barks in exasperation. “Take a look, Cas.”

Dean gestures to the conference table which Castiel hadn’t even noticed is covered in small white bags. He blinks.  He’s intimately familiar with the bags – they are nonwoven, acid-free and allow enough airflow to keep the feathers pristine without sacrificing their sterility.  He swallows and feels Dean slide an arm around his waist.

“They’re for you, Cas,” Dean explains. “Most of ‘em are mine but Sammy donated and so did the dork twins over here.”

Castiel’s wings tremor slightly. His voice fails him.  Dean presses a soft kiss against his cheek and is grateful for Gabriel who blurts out, “Well?!?”

Castiel snorts and wipes quickly at his eyes. “But I never – I didn’t want it to be about _me_ , Dean.”

“Dr. Novak,” Dr. Kimura says in his soft manner. “Your work in our field has restored flight to many who would not otherwise have such a blessing.  You’ve given hope to the soldiers here in this very hospital.  I believe it is time for you to heal as well.”

“I concur with Suzaku,” Dr. Steuben adds. “Your mate’s request was very welcome after all this time working with you.”

Castiel looks at his mate. Dean’s color is high because he hates being the center of attention which reminds Castiel of their high school years.  For all his swagger and confidence, Castiel had known it was a front to hide the more vulnerable side.  He shakes his head.

“Never fail to amaze, Winchester,” Castiel says.

“Whatever, fledge-head, you gonna do this or what?”

Castiel looks at the table again. “How on earth did you molt this many feathers?”

“That would be my assistance,” Kimura says. “I’ve developed a serum to help force molts for individuals suffering from infection.  It pushes the individual’s body to expel more than the usual amount of feathers so that new healthy ones can come into place, generally the entire wing.  Mr. Winchester was administered a smaller dosage since he was already in molt.”

Castiel shook his head. “Dean, you could have lost all of your feathers!  It could have taken weeks --!”

Dean chuckles. “I know that, Cas.  I wanted to do this.  If you have the surgery this week, you could have all your feathers imped by December.  And every year I’ll give you whatever feathers you need … I already talked to the hospital administrator and every soldier you’ve helped has signed up to donate.  You’ll never go without wings again, Cas.  Call it a standing Christmas present.”  Dean turns to face Castiel and brings out a small box which he opens.  “Castiel Novak, I never thought I’d deserve someone like you.  We’re imprinted and that’s forever, but I want to make this official.  Will you formally accept me as your mate?”

Castiel looks at the ring in shock. It’s matte black tungsten carbide with a feathered wing laser-etched onto the surface.  The design matches a tattoo on his back.  He suddenly pulls Dean in for a kiss making Balthazar and Gabriel scramble out of the way as the hawk’s wings flare wildly.  Sam and Dean’s family laugh.  The smiles are hopeful as everyone watches Dean and Castiel’s kiss end.  Dean grins down at the dove he can’t imagine being without ever again.

“Is that a ‘yes’, fledge-head?”

Castiel coos softly as he slides the ring onto his hand. “Yes.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so maybe this had one or two more chapters than I originally planned. I'll try not to leave you waiting too long.
> 
> Warnings: Well, there is a birth of sorts so if that's too squicky you might want to skim over the latter part of the chapter. Also, I took creative license with how males in this world would bring forth eggs. It's how I imagine it would be done.

“Cas?”

Dean waits at the door to their bedroom until two wings slowly stretch open from the center of the nest. Dean feels a wide smile pull his mouth up at the sight which never fails to make him feel twelve kinds of tender and turned on.  He easily lifts himself into the nest with a single flap, settling beside his mate who is lying amidst the usual jumble of quilts, blankets, pillows and more than one of Dean’s shirts.

“Seriously, Dean?” croaks Castiel. “I feel like warmed-over crap right now.”

Dean chuckles. Castiel’s sense of smell ratcheted up not long after their first mating season and the doctor had confirmed the dove was preparing to lay.  It had been amusing at first – the dove could pick up on Dean’s scent no matter where he was in the house.  And with a matching libido, Castiel had wanted Dean naked for every free waking moment between them.  Now, with the weight of the eggs forming within his body, Castiel had little energy and was grumpy almost all the time.

Dean strokes along the ridge of one of Castiel’s wings making it flutter. Castiel coos and Dean pulls off his shirt and works off his jeans.  He stays commando most days now because Castiel’s needs include as much skin-to-skin contact as possible as quickly as possible whenever they can.  There’s no sex – Cas is too weak and swollen for that – but the touches they share strengthen their mate bond and soothes the dove immensely. 

“Doc said only a day or two more, angel,” Dean murmurs against the dove’s ear. “God, you’re going to be even more gorgeous than you are now.”

Castiel snorts. “Winchester, I’m fat and stretched out and I _smell_.  How the hell is that ‘gorgeous’.”

Dean blows gently behind Castiel’s ear where a few very tiny down feathers lurk and he grins at the resultant shiver that ripples through the pale body he’s wrapped around. He covers them both with his wings pressing against Castiel’s.  Dean knows his mate can’t feel the touch entirely as he would if his wings were intact, but Castiel has assured him he can feel enough.  It makes the dove relax into the growing heat cocoon their bodies are creating.  Dean loves these soft moments when Castiel is safe and protected under his wings, soaking up warmth for their growing family.

“You smell like _us_ , Cas – this nest smells like heaven to me and it will to our chick too,” Dean promises.  “You’re not fat … just rounder.”  The hawk presses a hand over the swell of Castiel’s midsection and feels the firm edge of the egg within him.  It will give just enough to allow it to pass out of Castiel’s body and then harden to protect the egg until it hatches.  He can just make out a line forming along Castiel’s skin under the egg.  That line will thin and tear to release the egg into their nest.  Both Mary and Sam have warned Dean that Castiel will be _very_ protective at that time and he’ll need to be cautious until the hormones racing through his mate’s body settle.  Apparently, Jess left a mark or two on Sam when he moved too quickly to the nest after Johnny’s egg was laid.  Dean doesn’t care.  He wants his dove so much every day and the thought that they’ll finally have a chick of their own makes him fairly float through his days.

“ _Dean_ …” Castiel coos softly, pressing back against his hawk.

Dean chuckles and leans down to nuzzle against Castiel’s hairline. “Yeah, angel?”

“Dean, I _want_ you,” the dove sighs.  “ _Please_ …”

Dean presses a soft kiss against Castiel’s temple. He knows his dove’s libido hasn’t dropped even though his energy level has and while he can’t penetrate his mate, there’s more than one way to ruffle his dove’s feathers.  He slides down and eases Castiel onto his back, pushing pillows and blankets into position to support the man’s lower back.  Once the dove is settled, Dean kneels between his mate’s legs and begins a tortuous path up the insides of his thighs.  A low, gravel-filled groan escapes Castiel’s lips and a hand grips Dean’s hair.

“God, I love you, Winchester,” Castiel gasps when Dean licks up the underside of his cock.

Dean only smiles and continues his teasing. He loves Castiel’s soft calls as he mouths along the velvet column and gently tongues the tip.  Spices fill the air and Dean knows Castiel’s glands are starting to release his wing oil.  He brushes the tip of one wing over the swell of his mate’s abdomen and thrills to the breathy moan Castiel makes as he reaches his hand up to press against the base of the dove’s wing.  Dean brings his damp hand up to card into Castiel’s feathers, making sure to coat mostly the ones that still have sensation.  He chirps softly.

“Dean … _please_ …” Castiel pleads.

Dean moves up his mate’s body and kisses the dove deeply. When he pulls back he lets himself get lost in the brilliant blue gaze for a moment.  Everything he needs is here in this nest.  His entire world contained in one place. 

“I love you, angel,” Dean murmurs, brushing back the unruly hair.

Castiel blushes. It never fails to charm Dean at the face Castiel shows to the rest of the world and the one he reserves only for Dean.  Here, in their home, Castiel lets Dean see behind the bad-ass biker/doctor wall he puts up for everyone else.  In their nest, Dean sees the shy dove that he fell for so long ago.  Especially now that they’ve created this life between them.

Castiel’s wings tremble and Dean mouths softly over the other man’s jawline and neck before sliding back down to suck his mate’s cock. Simultaneously, he takes two oil slicked fingers and gently breaches his mate’s entrance.  Castiel arches up with a gasp, his fingers clawing at the nest to either side of him.  Dean works his fingers slowly in and out, brushing over the small bundle of nerves.

Castiel opens his eyes and his view is dark honey gold. Dean’s wings are mantled over him with the tips tenderly brushing against his body.  When he runs his fingers over the crest, the wings shudder and give an aborted flare.  Castiel smiles – even after all this time, Dean’s wings still respond strongly to his touch.  He pushes up onto his elbows to free his own wings so that they can press against his gorgeous hawk’s.  Dark and light rub and caress, spreading their combined wing oil over the feathers.  Dean’s warm scent fills the dove’s senses while the hawk pulls his mate closer and closer to release.

“Dean … close … _DEAN!_ ”

Castiel’s entire body seems to seize when his mate suddenly deep throats him and releases a shrill mating cry. The vibrations sing through the dove’s cock and he has no time to prepare himself before his head falls back and sings his high-pitched climax to the ceiling.  The world disappears behind the roaring of his blood.

It takes Castiel a bit before his brain reunites with his body. Nearly 10 minutes, according to Dean, who has cleaned them both up, removed the more soiled bits of the nest for the laundry and settled back down beside his mate.  Dean’s hand drifts lovingly over the egg bump and Castiel feels perfectly and absolutely content.  He sees the silvery glint of the ring Dean wears that matches Castiel’s.  His mind drifts back to the day his wingtips touched Dean’s in the hall of their school.  The thrill and shock of imprinting became a suffusing joy that was a part of his life because he knew he’d found his other half.  That joy had been temporarily transmuted into grief and pain but the joy has returned, eclipsing everything that went before.  Castiel knows he’ll love being a parent as much as Dean and he hopes they have an entire house full of chicks someday. 

“Where’d you go, fledge-head?” Dean asks softly.

“Nowhere very far,” Castiel replies happily. “I’m home, after all.”

Dean kisses his mate. “Good.  Don’t ever change, Cas.”

“Not planning on it, Winchester,” Castiel returns. He squirms a little and chirps.  “But I have a request.”

Dean, who’d been drifting off, raises his head. “Yeah?  Whatcha need, angel?”

Castiel frowns and contemplates the ceiling for a moment before nodding. “I think ... yes, you should call your mom and Balthazar.  I’m pretty sure I’m about to lay.”

Dean dives out of the nest, snatching his phone out of his jeans and dialing numbers committed to memory instead of scrolling through contacts. Castiel watches, amused, as the hawk holds the phone to his ear while pulling on jeans one-handed.  He manages to slide into a t-shirt when the line is answered.

“Balthazar! It’s time!” Dean says.  He releases an annoyed screech.  “Dude, I swear by all that is holy – yeah, you better!  See you in 10.”

Castiel chuckles and blows out a slow, steady breath as a searing line of pain slices across the lower part of his abdomen. He lays carefully back and waits for it to ease.  He talks to the egg.

“Take your time, little one,” the dove murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere and neither is your father.”

“Mom! Yes!  I already called him!  Uh –“ Dean turns to the nest.  “You hurting, fledge-head?”

Castiel barks a sharp laugh and his hand appears over the rail. “Give me the phone, Dean and go unlock the door for Balthazar.  Your mother can call everyone else – hello, Mary,” Castiel falls into his doctor persona despite the growing pain.  “No … it’s still … tolerable.  Dean is fine but perhaps you should get here sooner rather than later … I’m ---“

Castiel lets out a soft screech of pain and hears a crash from downstairs.

“ _CAS!”_

The hawk barrels into the room, wings nearly fully extended. His green eyes blaze with his predatory instinct and the sight actually calms Castiel because it represents all the strength of their bond.  He smiles and motions for Dean to come closer.

“I’m fine, Dean … calm down. If you’re too unsettled, you won’t be able to let Balthazar help me,” Castiel explains.

Dean takes a couple of deep breaths. “Who in their right mind thought that feather-head would be a good doctor?”

“The good people at Oxford, my dear Dean.”

Dean’s head snaps around before he forces himself to slowly turn, his wings pulled in tight. He’s a hawk and his first instinct is to attack anyone near his mate … _especially_ another hawk.  Balthazar calmly flutters his wings, sending a wave of scent toward Dean and once he catches it, his body relaxes.  The scent is a variation of Castiel’s, telling Dean’s hind-brain that it’s a relation and no threat. 

“Better, beak-brain?”

“Beak – _look_ , Balthazar –“ Dean starts irritably.

“ _Enough_ ,” Castiel snaps.  “If it’s alright with you two, I’d like to lay this _fucking_ egg sometime today!”

A soft, amused chirp pulls Dean’s attention again and he looks to see his mother standing in the door with Sam just outside in the hallway. Mary Winchester rolls her eyes and walks over to the nest.  The hawks move aside without comment because Mary might be a sparrow but she won’t hesitate to go toe-to-toe with a hawk if necessary.  She gracefully lifts herself to the edge of the nest and brushes Castiel’s hair back on his forehead.

“Hello, sweetheart,” Mary says softly. “Do I need to kick these feather-heads out of here?”

Castiel chuckles as he takes Mary’s hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles. Behind Mary, Castiel can hear twin squawks of outrage.  He grins.  He’s lying naked under a sheet but he doesn’t feel the slightest bit embarrassed.  Mary Winchester has proven herself to be made of stern stuff and he doubts his state of undress bothers her in the least considering she raised two boys.

“I don’t think they’d go easily,” Castiel replies, knowing Dean would tear the house down around them if someone suggested he leave the room..

Mary waves dismissively. “I threw John out of the room at least once for both their layings.  And trust me that man was the most stubborn hawk you’ve ever met.”

Castiel winces as the egg shifts a little more. He smiles at her soft, reassuring trill.  When the pain subsides he says, “I don’t know … Dean has his moments …”

Mary smiles. “He does – he got that from his father.  I’m so glad you found each other again, Castiel.  It means so much that you’re giving my son the family he deserves – you’re perfect for him.  Thank you for that.”

_Now_ Castiel feels embarrassed and he blushes fiercely, feeling like the shy teenager he’d been once upon a time.  He chirps softly and Mary laughs.  She brushes her fingers over his abdomen before motioning Balthazar and Dean to the nest. 

“Almost time, hon – now, don’t you worry about anything. You’ve got your family around you and everything is going to be just fine.  Focus on bringing this little one into your nest, ok?”

Castiel nods and then a searing slash of pain cuts across his midsection. He squeezes his eyes shut against the wave, oblivious to anything going on around him.  When he opens them, Dean is behind him, gently easing the dove up until he’s in a squatting position.  Mary is gone and Castiel can only scent Balthazar and Dean.  He smiles tiredly at his mate and Dean presses a kiss to his husband’s hair.

Castiel chirps restlessly as the egg resettles within him, moving into position over the seam on his belly. The line of skin burns fiercely and Dean murmurs into Castiel’s temple. 

“Love you, fledge-head … I’m here and I got you. Ready?”

Balthazar has been sanitizing his hands, putting on gloves and laying down a thick, absorbent cloth beneath his younger brother. Home laying is common but Castiel knows Dean would have preferred the hospital.  It took him some time to persuade the hawk to let them share this natural process at home instead of a joyless room painted shades of beige Castiel is fairly certain don’t occur in nature.  Besides, his brother is a talented pediatrician – if anything goes wrong, Balthazar will be more than capable of dealing with it.  Castiel sighs and breathes through the next surge of discomfort.

Castiel lets his thoughts drift while the pressure and pain within him increases. He has a moment where he thinks he passes out and a distinct tearing sensation floats up through his consciousness.  He hears people talking and forces himself to look at Dean.  He knows Dean is seeing the blood and fluid coming out of his mate’s body as it opens to allow the egg to emerge by the way the skin beneath Dean’s freckles pale.  Castiel coos softly to distract the hawk.  Dean looks up at him and Castiel falls into the green pools all over again – his hawk, his love, his mate.

“Bear down, Cassy,”

Balthazar’s voice comes to him as if from the bottom of a well and Castiel blinks twice as he feels Dean moving around to support his mate and help him push. The egg is in position to move out of his body.  The dove’s wings flutter as his earlier confidence deserts him.

“Dean … I can’t –“

“Shh,” the hawk whispers against his ear. “I got you, angel … you’re doing great.  You’re doing so awesome.”

Castiel gives a sharp cry as the seam opens completely and he feels a sudden shifting of weight and pressure as the egg leaves his body. Castiel sags back against Dean who is trilling softly at his mate.  The sound soothes Castiel and he returns it.  He feels suddenly empty and exposed.  A moment, then another, pass and no one says anything.  Castiel tries to crane his head up but he has no strength.  His abdomen feels strangely hot.  About the time Castiel starts to move restlessly, a blanket-wrapped object his lifted into his sight.  His eyes overflow and a brief glance tells him Dean is similarly affected.

Dean’s breath catches when he sees the egg wrapped in his own laying blanket -- a soft peach-colored cloth embroidered with tiny eggs and wings in the border. He takes it carefully from Balthazar and brings it closer to Castiel.  The shell looks pale grey at first glance but as it moves through the light, Castiel sees green and copper highlights that remind him of Dean’s wings.  It moves slightly and Dean squawks in surprise even though Sammy told him the chick would be restless for a while after laying. 

Castiel sighs and lets himself be laid back against the blankets and shirts and pillows. Dean moves to one side, holding the egg like it’s a priceless diamond.  It settles something inside Castiel to see his mate holding their soon-to-be-hatched child.  He smiles tiredly, a random memory of his molt and how he’d desperately wanted to be _anything_ but a dove because doves had to lay eggs.  Castiel thinks he’d tell his younger self that there is nothing so wonderful as bringing an egg into your own nest.  After he warned him to avoid Lisa Braeden at all costs, of course.  Castiel snickers to himself at his gallows humor.

“Whatcha think’ about, angel?” Dean asks, the egg cradled against his strong chest.

Castiel shakes his head and shifts, unable to find a comfortable position. He rolls his eyes at Balthazar’s snapped, “ _Settle,_ Castiel!” 

The dove looks up at Dean. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen – the most amazing thing I’ve ever done … our egg … our chick … De-Dean –“

Dean smiles at his kick-ass biker doctor of a mate spouting such emotional sap but he loves it. He loves seeing the softer side of the dove and he can’t imagine anything more perfect than this moment.  His joy fades as Castiel suddenly tenses and pales.  His eyes flutter shut and Balthazar curses softly.  Dean’s wings tremble with the urge to flare.

“Balthazar? Damn it … you _answer_ me –“

Castiel’s brother looks up from where he’s been stapling the egg seam and tending to the egg sac. His expression is grim.  “Tell Sam to call the hospital.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, an ending. Thank you to everyone who read, commented and kudo'd this story. For those who know my recent struggles, you know why this chapter wouldn't just flow. It's been a long time and I hope you enjoy the finale. Love you all.

Dean paces just outside the hospital. He can’t be inside or he thinks he’ll lose his mind.  He ignores the worried glances of patients and staff that pass him on the way to the main door.  His wings tremble with the effort of keeping them tightly shut.

Tucked against his body, held in place by a thick, soft sling is the egg. Dean chirps softly down at the fog-gray orb as he paces.

“You just wait till you meet your angel of a papa … he’s amazing. He’s so smart – he helps people all the time.  And brave … chickie, you haven’t seen brave until you’ve seen your dad.  He goes into warzones, like where people are trying to shoot him and blow him up!”  Dean stops himself and runs a fingertip over the slowly hardening shell.  “But don’t you worry about that – he always comes home.  And now that you’re here he probably won’t go as often but when he does go, you and me’ll bug him until he comes home again, ok?”  Dean perches on a retaining wall edge and looks up at the moon, peering from behind clouds.  “He’s strong, your dad.  And I don’t mean in a ‘works out all the time’ way although he does do that – no, he’s strong because of all the sh – the _stuff_ I put him through when we were younger.  We’ll tell you about that when you’re older but your dad is—“

“Dean?”

The hawk’s wings flare to their full impressive length and he gives a sharp warning screech. Even though he consciously knows that it’s Sam and that his brother would _never_ harm any member of his family, Dean can’t help instinct.  His eyes are full-on raptor as he spins to face his younger brother, arms wrapped firmly around the egg.  Sam’s wings instantly slump in response to Dean’s aggression display but he doesn’t retreat.  Instead, he ducks his head and looks at his older brother sideways, indicating submission to the hawk.

Dean freezes and manages to rein himself back with a grunt. “Damn it, Sammy.”  He folds his wings back and exhales slowly before running a hand over his face.  “Sorry about that.”

Sam moves forward slowly, keeping his own wings closed. He might be taller with a wide wingspan but in his current state, Dean could actually do serious damage if he lost control.  Sam takes in his brother’s condition as he approaches and a deep sadness fills him.  After all the pair has been through, this event has probably dredged up bad memories for Dean.  The honey-bronze wings tremor like a strong wind is shaking them and feathers drift to the ground around Dean’s feet.  Sam trills softly, hoping his next words will snap Dean out of it.

“Hey … hey, it’s ok, Dean. I get it … but listen to me -- Castiel stabilized.  Balthazar said they’re moving him to recovery and he wants you to be there when Castiel wakes up.”

Dean stares at Sam for a long moment before the hawk seems to deflate. Dean releases a long, shaky breath and, for once, lets Sam support him as they walk back inside the building.  His younger brother’s wings brush easily against his own like they did when they were chicks and the sensation comforts him.  Mary greets them in the hallway and gently strokes her oldest son’s cheek.  Dean’s heart is big but fragile and losing Castiel would no doubt shatter it forever.  She makes soft sounds and is glad to see the corner of Dean’s mouth curl upward.

“There’s my handsome boy … now you go on in and be with your mate. Remember how strong he is – he’s going to be just fine, Dean.  As long as you and that egg are nearby, nothing is going to keep Castiel from getting better,” Mary chirps.

Dean nods, heart still thumping somewhere behind his Adam’s apple. He enters the hospital room and a sad squawk escapes him at the sight.  The dove’s wings are carefully tucked behind him, covered and held in place.  Beeping machines monitor every vital Castiel has and Dean’s chirps echo them.

“I’m here, angel. I’m not going anywhere so you better not.  You’ve got a chick to hatch,” Dean murmurs, brushing his fingertips over the pale hand. 

“So … you think … I’m … going … to be … a … a … ster-stereotyp …”

Dean snorts in spite of his worry. Only his sweet, sarcastic mate would be trying to needle Dean when he’s only just back from what could have been a fatal internal hemorrhage.  Dean presses a kiss to the dove’s forehead, then his dry lips, silencing the protest. 

“Yeah, yeah … you’re not a stereotypical anything, gorgeous,” Dean says with a watery grin. He looks at the sliver of bright blue gazing at him and the force of their imprint settles something deep inside Dean. 

“Obviously,” Castiel mutters.

The dove’s hand rises slowly from the bed to brush against the sling Dean still wears. The hawk quickly slips the egg from around his neck and situates it between Castiel’s arm and torso, the soft cloth wrapped snugly around it acting as stabilizer and cushion.  In direct opposition to his attitude a minute ago, Castiel coos softly and both mates smile when the egg trembles slightly.  Castiel’s eyes slide shut in contentment.

“So beautiful, Dean,” Castiel whispers.

“You sure are, angel,” Dean murmurs as Castiel falls into a deep, restful sleep. He pulls a chair close to the bed and keeps watch over his small but precious family.

* * *

**Four Years Later**

Dean comes up the stairs to see if Castiel is in the nursery and is greeted by the sight of a bare, pink bottom racing down the hall. Giggles echo off the walls.  Sam comes out of the bathroom a moment later, his long hair and t-shirt sporting damp spots and bubbles.  Dean chuckles as he takes the towel from his beleaguered brother who keeps darting quick glances back into the bathroom.

“Told ya he was fast,” Dean teases.

Sam blows a wayward bang back. “You weren’t kidding.  I don’t even know how he can flap his wings with the bath covers on them!”

Dean spins around to walk backwards with his thumbs tugging out his shirt in an exaggerated ego display. “Cuz he’s my kid, of course.”

Sam rolls his eyes and peers around the door again, making sure the remaining chicks are still safe and splashing in the tub. “Whatever … go and find him before he catches cold.  I’ve got the rest of my brood to scrub down.  Whose brilliant idea was it to let them make a mud puddle again?”

Dean laughs and turns around to stroll to the nursery where the wet footprints lead. Over his shoulder he says, “Yeah, that one you can blame on the blonde trouble-maker you married.  The one showering half the backyard off downstairs.  Mom already got Johnny cleaned up and I’m pretty sure he’s gonna use those peepers of his to charm her out of the icing spoon.” Sam bats his eyes at Dean who snorts.  “Yeah, that’s the look.”

Sam chuckles and closes the door before swooping down on his twin chicks, a year younger than Dean’s exhibitionist son Zeke. Bubbles slosh over the side and the small room is full of shrieking chicks and wild giggles.  Life is good.

* * *

Dean leans on the door frame and watches as his egg-heavy mate patiently removes the bath covers from his son’s downy wings which instantly flutter madly, sending fluff everywhere. Castiel smiles indulgently, capturing a feather and expertly launching it to sail the disturbed air currents and land spot on the tiny nose.  Zeke laughs and Dean wonders when that little trick will become old hat to the boy.  He hopes no time soon. 

Castiel flaps his wings sending the down flying through the air to float down like large snowflakes. Zeke spins under the feathers and Castiel is struck yet again how much the glee-filled face looks just like Dean at that age, down to the freckles and grass-green eyes.  He distracts his chick, allowing Dean to enter the room silently.  The hawk snatches up his chick, enjoying as always the surprised cries it sets free.

“ _There_ you are!” Dean exclaims as if he’d been hunting all over the house.  “You get faster every day.”

“I do?”

Castiel chuckles as he starts setting out clothes for Zeke. Dean notices the way his wings droop a little so he deftly takes over and his own wings brush over Castiel’s, urging him to sit down again.  It says a lot to how close Castiel is to laying that he doesn’t argue.  Because of the complications from Zeke, he’ll have to go to the hospital and that makes Dean sad, but when Castiel comes home, he’ll have as long as he wants to nest with their egg until it hatches like last time. 

“Show papa how fast you can get dressed, little man,” Dean challenges.

Castiel thinks he hasn’t laughed quite this much in a while watching his mate and his son scramble to complete the task. In the end, a shirt has to be untangled from a head, feathers have to be brushed off jeans and a sock turned right-side out before the foot goes into a shoe, but all in all, it was successful.  While Dean ties the laces, Zeke asks, “Was I faster than you, Daddy?”

Dean nods. “Way faster than me at that age.  Betcha when your grown-up wings come in, you’ll be the fastest one in the family.”  He winks conspiratorially.  “You might even beat uncle Sam.”

Zeke’s face lights up but then falls. He chews on his lower lip.  “But I’ma dove, Daddy.  Doves isn’t fast.”

Dean’s eyebrow arches. “Who told you that?”  He looks up to see Castiel frowning as well. 

Zeke toes the carpet beneath his sneaker. “Teacher.”

It takes everything Castiel has not to let out a screech to rival anything Dean could make but the sudden sharp snap of his wings startles Zeke and the emerald gaze fills with tears. “I’ma sorry, Papa!  Don’t be mad … I’ma sorry!”

Dean scoops up his chick again and crouches near his dove, spreading his wings to enclose them all. Castiel presses a soft kiss to his son’s head. 

“Sweet chick, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for – your teacher is … ignorant to say the least,” he says with a low tremor to his voice.

“What’s … ig … ignorm—“

Dean thumbs away tears and smiles down at Zeke. “Ignorant … means she’s not too smart, baby boy.  You want to know why?”  A tentative nod.  “Because nobody – not you, not me or Papa, not even uncle Balt who is a _doctor_ will know what you’re going to be until you have your first molt.  And it wasn’t very nice for her to say that to you.”  Dean taps his son’s nose.  “What does she know anyway?  Your Papa is pretty badass on his bike, right?”

“Dean, language …”

Zeke doesn’t comment on it which means this has been bothering him for a while. He leans against Dean’s chest, the scent of his parents calming him.  Soft chirps burble out of him Castiel gently grooms his wings. 

“Zeke, do you _like_ Ms. Ruby’s class?”

The chick shakes his head, and then tries to qualify his answer. “But you said I needed to try.”

Dean chuckles. “That’s because you tried to fly off the first day, buddy … before class even started.”

Zeke smiles but it fades. “But my friends are there … Jake is there.”

Castiel coos softly. “I think you’ll do better in a different pre-school, Zeke.  And I might know something that no one else does …”

Zeke’s head pops up and Dean regards his mate with a frown. Castiel looks smug and leans close to whisper.  “I know that Grandma Mary got her teaching certificate and will be working with a new pre-school opening just down the block.  Would you like to go to her school instead?”

Dean blinks in surprise and Zeke’s wings tremble with excitement. “ _Really_?”

Castiel nods. “Why don’t you go ask her if you can be in her first class next month?”

Sloppy kisses are quickly bestowed and all the drama of a few moments ago is forgotten in the rush to clamber down the stairs – carefully holding onto the banisters with both hands like Daddy taught him, of course. Dean sighs, watching him make it to the bottom safely before screeching out, “Grandma Mary I’ma gonna be in your first class!” at the top of his lungs.

Castiel pushes himself up to also make the laborious trip downstairs. His entire body is still taut with anger.

“I could peck that woman’s eyes out,” he growls.

“Have to stand in line, angel,” Dean assures his mate. “Hey, you think we oughta call Jake’s folks and give them a heads-up?”

Castiel nods as he takes each step just as carefully if a bit slower than his chick had a moment earlier. “Absolutely.  There’s no way Gadreel and Inias would stand for that – ‘doves isn’t fast’.  How _dare_ she?”

Dean is grateful he’s behind Castiel because he can’t hide the grin on his face. His mate might be a dove, but he is _anything_ but weak and submissive.  And if Ruby was _ever_ to challenge his mate on the basis of speed, well … Dean thinks there are at least five different bikes in their garage that would put her in her place, wings or no.  Mary appears at the bottom of the stairs, hands on her hips in a way that bodes ill for someone.

“Tell me you two are going to talk to the school about this woman,” she chirps angrily. “How dare she try to pigeon hole one of my chicks!”

Castiel makes his way to one of the dining room chairs. Jess appears a moment later with a large glass of ice tea and a sympathetic shooing away of all the chicks which Castiel appreciates immensely.  Sam looks up from his laptop where he’s typing away. 

“We’re pulling our registration, Dean – the boys can go to mom’s school when they start,” he announces.

The conversation goes on and on even past lunch even when Dean isn’t really paying attention any longer. He sits on the couch with Castiel comfortably settled between his legs, their wingtips gently rubbing against each other.  His family is spreading their wings to mantle and nothing so inconsequential as an ignorant, biased schoolteacher is going to harm their flock.

Castiel’s body is a comforting weight against Dean and the hawk feels complete in a way he never believed he could be once upon a time. His mate’s patchwork wings are strong and vibrant after years of careful imping.  Their home is full more often than not with members from both sides of the family making it a true nest, something Dean never thought he’d ever deserve much less actually _have_ in his life.  A soft trill pulls him from his musing.  Sam and Balthazar are discussing some brilliantly legal way of bringing Ms. Ruby to task for her discrimination in the classroom and Dean can see Gabriel playing outside with the chicks while his mom and Jess watch closely.  His brain’s been in the clouds for God knows how long.

“Back on Earth, Winchester?” Castiel asks with a smile.

“Yeah, angel,” Dean replies, kissing his mate gently.

Blue eyes pin hazel ones and for a moment the world is only about the two of them. Dean is about to say something straight from a chick-flick when Castiel grimaces.  “Good … because I’m pretty sure I’m about to lay this egg.”

**Author's Note:**

> Song Inspiration: Black Dove by The Daylights


End file.
